


klaine advent drabble challenge 2016 masterpost

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: all the fic written for klaine advent drabble challenge 2016!!





	1. audience

**Author's Note:**

> based mostly on the fact that darren just finished his tour as hedwig - here's a fluffy reunited!klaine drabble featuring hedwig!blaine. sorry not sorry

Kurt gets more than a few nasty glares from people in the audience when he settles down in his seat a few rows from the front. Sure, a baseball cap and hoodie isn’t exactly typical theatrewear, but he’s incognito. Mostly from his husband, but also from the rest of the theatre as well. Blaine knows him and his clothing taste well enough that even if he wore a completely new outfit, Blaine would still be able to pick Kurt out from fifty feet. Seeing as he’s been in LA launching a new Hummel Brag store for a month and isn’t supposed to be back until next week, that would kind of ruin the surprise. Because as _if_ he’s going to miss his husband’s opening night as the titular role of Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

So he’s in an old NYU hoodie that he borrowed from Elliott and his most casual pair of jeans. His DMs are burgundy and patterned with flowers, but Blaine won’t be able to see those from the stage, so it doesn’t matter. He has to keep _some_ originality.

Clutching his playbill, he turns his phone off and flips through the first few pages until he finds Blaine’s name. Underneath is listed his numerous achievements, starting with his roles in college productions and their performance of _Who’s Afraid of Virgina Woolf?_ There’s mention of his composing work, his Grammy nomination (Kurt’s stomach flips remembering Blaine’s joy at that), his degree in musical theatre with a minor in composing and then finally -

Kurt hadn’t seen the end part.

 _Thank you to my family, friends, and most of all to Kurt, for making it safe should I fall, knowing me better than I know myself, and always holding my hand_.

Tears spring to his eyes and he has to swallow several times against a lump in his throat. His excitement for the show hasn’t dampened at all (and really, he still can’t quite believe that Blaine got the lead role in _Hedwig_ , not because Blaine isn’t talented but because it’s _Hedwig_ on _Broadway_ ), but his excitement to see and hold his husband afterwards triples.

Carefully, he closes the playbill and places it on his lap as the band starts to warm up. Hedwig has been a staple in their movie nights since they got together, but he’s never seen it live, and he is _excited_.

And oh my god, the moment Blaine lowers in from the ceiling Kurt has to put a hand to his heart. His husband is magnetic in the role, he just _transforms_ . From _Tear Me Down_ to _Midnight Radio_ , Kurt laughs, cries (a _lot_ ) and cheers so hard his throat aches. When Hedwig kisses an audience member in the front row during _Sugar Daddy_ , Kurt wolf-whistles. When she blows a kiss to the audience after _Wicked Little Town_ , he almost reaches out to grab it. He cries almost nonstop during _Midnight Radio_ , and is grateful for his hoodie because it means he can wipe his eyes on it without worrying about ruining the fabric.

When Blaine - stripped down to only a pair of _tiny_ leather shorts - bows for the audience, Kurt is first on his feet. He whoops and claps and whistles obnoxiously, receives another glare from the elderly couple beside him, and whoops louder. God, he is so _proud_.

But Blaine doesn’t know he’s there, and he doesn’t want to try and make it backstage because he knows the news will make it to Blaine before he does. Instead, he follows a huge group of fans  outside, to the stage door.

It’s a chilly May evening as Kurt waits, his hat tugged down over his face. Luckily, most of the people waiting are focused on talking to each other, playbills held tight in their hands. As Kurt waits, his phone buzzes, and he checks it reflexively.

 _From: Husband ♥♥♥  
_ _Just finished my first show as Ms Robinson!!_ _feels sooooo surreal. Miss you the most though. Can’t wait to see you next week xoxoxoxoxoxo_

Smiling, Kurt leans up against a nearby wall to reply.  _ Can’t wait to see you too. I’m sure you stunned them all. _

_ From: Husband  ♥♥♥ _ _   
_ _ Pffffft you are too kind. Can I call you in like thirty? Im gonna stage door (people ACTUALLY want my autograph?? crazy) and then we can catch up ♥ _

_ To: Husband ♥♥♥ _ _   
_ _ Sounds perfect. Love you. _

Sure enough, a few minutes later the stage door opens and people start to cheer. Kurt sees Blaine’s neatly-gelled head bob about behind the crowd, and he slides to the end of the crowd at the front to make sure that he doesn’t miss him. Luckily, his face is obscured by people leaning out to take photos and hand over playbills, so he’s happy to wait around as Blaine slowly, slowly inches around through the crowd of people towards him.

After probably about an hour, he’s close enough to hear, and Kurt’s heart melts a little at the familiar tones of his voice, greeting fans and thanking them for coming. He must recognise a few people who have stage doored other shows, because some he greets by name, earnestly asking them how they’re doing, how they’re enjoying New York. He takes pictures, answers questions (“What’s your favourite breed of dog?” “Oh, I  _ love _ dalmatians, I have ever since I was a kid!”) and even takes a couple videos for people.

Eventually, he’s only a few people from Kurt, and Kurt starts to feel nervous. Maybe he should have let Blaine know - he’s a professional, surely he doesn’t want Kurt coming to his place of work unannounced, and on his  _ opening night _ \- but before he can psych himself out, Blaine’s in front of him and reaching for the playbill in his hands.

“Hey!” his husband says cheerily, bending his head to write his name neatly above the word  _ Hedwig, _ “I’m Blaine, what’s your name?”

Kurt can’t help it, he flirts a little, putting on a breathy voice. “Hi, Blaine, I’m Kurt. Big fan.”

“Kurt? That’s funny, my husband’s name is -”

Kurt literally sees the moment it registers. Blaine’s brows go from drawn together to halfway up his forehead, his head snaps up and his mouth falls open.

Kurt grins nervously, pulling the hat off his head. “Hey, honey.”

“ _ Kurt? _ ”

“I thought I’d -”

He barely manages to get three words out before Blaine literally flings himself into Kurt’s arms, forcing him to drop his hat. “Kurt  _ Kurt _ what are you doing here I thought you were in LA -?”

Kurt staggers a little under the unexpected weight, wrapping Blaine up and burying his face in the soft material of his cowl neck sweater. “I came back early.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine leans back but keeps his arms around Kurt’s neck, and Kurt realises it’s because he’s leaning over the barrier and his feet are no longer on the floor, “Oh my god, I thought I saw you in the audience at curtain call but I told myself I was dreaming it -”

“It was me,” Kurt laughs, “Oh my god, honey, put your feet on the floor in case I drop you.”

“No,” Blaine’s hidden his face in Kurt’s neck, “ _ I can’t believe you’re here _ \- you’re supposed to be working on the store?”

Kurt is suddenly aware that there are a lot of phones directed at them, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he pulls and Blaine plants his foot on the metal barrier and somehow between the two of them they get him over. Kurt’s expecting Blaine to stand up but he doesn’t, instead wraps his legs around Kurt’s waist like a koala and clings to him, half-laughing half-crying into his hoodie.

“Blaine, oh my god, sweetie, don’t cry,” Kurt presses a kiss to the side of his head, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just thought I’d surprise you.”

Blaine’s head pops up, and his neatly gelled hair is now considerably more messy. His eyes are wet but he’s smiling wide, his face scrunching up. “You’re here! You’re really here and you came to see me!”

“Like I was going to miss my husband’s opening night on Broadway,” Kurt grins, “All the investors in the world couldn’t keep me in LA tonight.”

“And you’re home?” Blaine asks, framing Kurt’s face with his hands, “You’re really home?”

“I’m home,” Kurt says.

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Oh my god I missed you so  _ much _ ,” and Blaine kisses him, and Kurt doesn’t even care that Blaine’s entire dedicated fanbase is right there - he braces them against the barrier and kisses right back.

There’s basically no one behind him, so once Blaine stops incredulously repeating  _ you’re home, you’re home _ the stage door manager opens the barrier for them and Blaine - flushed and grinning and holding Kurt’s hand really tight - says thank you to the crowd, bows a few times, blows them all a kiss and then drags Kurt inside.

“I can’t believe you flew back for me,” he says a few minutes later, once they’re safe and alone in his dressing room, “I can’t believe it.”

“You were amazing, Blaine,” Kurt says, cupping his jaw, “You were  _ incredible _ . You had the audience eating out of your hand. You had  _ me _ eating out of your hand.”

“Shut up,” Blaine’s eyes are welling up again, “I’m way too emotional right now, I need to hug you.”

“Hugs at your disposal,” Kurt squeezes him tight, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring roses, I was trying to be incognito.”

“I don’t need roses,” Blaine says, face buried in Kurt’s chest, “I just need you.”

Kurt swallows down the lump that brings to this throat, lays his face against Blaine’s head and holds his husband tight.


	2. bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine wakes up and decides that he and kurt need a bigger bed.

Blaine wakes slowly.

It’s late, he can tell. There’s sun shining through a crack in their curtains, and he feels well rested as opposed to drained and exhausted as he has felt for most of the week.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he looks over his shoulder and sees that Kurt is already awake - glasses on and sitting up with his back against the headboard, tapping away at his tablet. Blaine rolls over, tugging his feet out from under a heavy weight, and leans into his husband’s side, grumbling. “‘Morning.”

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Kurt presses a kiss to the top of his head, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Blaine yawns and pushes himself upright as well, peering down at the rest of the bed.

“Well then,” he says, “When did these three get in?”

Kurt looks over the top of his glasses and smiles. “About seven AM. Avery had a nightmare, and Hepburn brought her in. And Bagel’s been on the bed since you fell asleep.

Blaine sighs, looking down at their entire family plus-a-dog crammed onto one queen-size bed. “We don’t really fit any more, huh?”

“Are you kidding?” Kurt laughs softly, “Have we ever?”

“Well, when Avery was just a baby -”

“ - and we were desperately trying cosleeping as a last resort for getting through the night -”

“Yeah,” Blaine shakes his head at the memory, “Well, we fit pretty good then.”

Kurt looks at the bed. Avery is curled up between their legs, clutching Blaine’s old worn stuffed dog with her thumb in her mouth. Hepburn is sprawled across the bottom of the bed in his spiderman pajamas, almost hanging off the edge, with Bagel’s head resting on the backs of his legs, the rest of their middle-aged whippet’s body draped over Blaine’s feet.

“I think we need a bigger bed,” Blaine reaches down and scoops Avery up, groaning as his back clicks, “Or at least an extra mattress to put at the bottom for these little parasites.”

Hepburn is fast asleep, but Avery isn’t. She cracks an eye open as Blaine tucks her back under the covers and frowns at him. “ _ Shh _ , daddies. I sleeping.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Blaine strokes her hair back, “How about I take you back to your bed? Like a big girl?”

But she’s closed her eyes again, and Blaine shakes his head and tucks an errant curl behind her ear.

His feet shift and Bagel wakes up, yawns and gets to her feet. Now the space once filled by Avery is free she curls herself into a ball there with a lazy tail wag and a snuffle in their general direction.

“I’ve been letting them sleep,” Kurt says, “It’s been a long week. First day of preschool for Heps, playgroup for Avery. And all the work you’ve been doing, I figured you deserve a sleep in.”

“Mm,” Blaine leans down and tugs the blanket that lies at the end of their bed over Hepburn, making sure his feet are covered. “I’m tempted to go back to sleep as well.” His eyelids are heavy and he’s warm and his husband’s voice is like honey.

“Give in to temptation,” he hears the click of Kurt’s tablet turning off and sees his husband slide down under the covers, “Take a mid morning nap with me.”

“Does it count as a nap if I’ve only spent a few minutes awake?” Blaine asks, curling up so he doesn’t accidentally nudge his son awake.

“Who cares,” Kurt reaches over the sleeping lump that is Avery between them and gently pets Blaine’s cheek, “Nap. Shh. I sleeping.”

Blaine muffles a giggle at Kurt’s perfect Avery-speak, and closes his eyes. “Mmkay. But not for long.”

Kurt doesn’t reply, just pets his cheek again and shushes him.

Blaine closes his eyes, lifts his hand and links his fingers with Kurt’s, pulls it around to his mouth to kiss his wedding ring. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“We should get a bigger bed.”

“Shhh,” Kurt says softly, “Nap time. Bigger bed comes after nap time.”

“Deal,” Blaine murmurs, and slips back into sleep with Kurt’s hand still held in his.


	3. charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> witch!blaine meets a hurried customer and finds himself charmed.

Blaine does not consider himself to be someone who is easily charmed.

He’s fully aware of his own talent at being sweet and approachable - it comes with the territory of being a ‘good’ witch. He’s not quite as ridiculously charming as some of the people he’s met, especially those who specialise in charisma magic, but as an earth witch who channels mostly through singing he’s been known to turn a few heads through renditions of Katy Perry or Taylor Swift songs.

He doesn’t  _ try _ to do it - he knows how awful it feels to wake up from being bewitched by someone, like swimming up through treacle. Most strong charisma witches are bound by contract to entertainment industries, where their powerful magic is dispersed over hundreds to thousands of fans, reducing its effect. Less powerful individuals have a close eye kept on them, almost as close as that kept on necromancers and elementals. A toe out of line, a spell cast on an unsuspecting bystander, is enough to have your powers stripped by the council. But he only lets his magic get powerful enough to catch someone’s attention, to conjure a smile to their face or smooth wrinkles from their brow.

That’s why he set up  _ Bean & Blossom _ with Tina, a culinary witch who channels through song like him _. _ Half coffee shop, half florist, they make it their business to improve people’s days. He specialises in the plants - imbued with spells that energise and focus in the mornings and calm and reassure in the evenings. Tina sells drinks with shots of enthusiasm and confidence for job interviews and dates, hot chocolate which will stay warm during long rides home and iced coffee that won’t melt in the heat. Blaine also sells flowers and plants for special occasions, and they have a few offices that purchase anti-allergy bouquets regularly for their employees. 

It was tough at the start, but now they’re pretty well established. A couple of local newspapers and blogs have reviewed them well, and they have a set of regulars that they see almost every day. There are open mic nights on Tuesdays which are frequented by college kids looking for their big break, and a couple are good enough that some of their songs are on the soft indie playlist that plays from open to close. They’ve even hired fellow witches to help run the store, reducing the number of early morning and late night shifts both of them have to pull.

It’s just after opening on a Monday morning when Blaine sees him.

He’s behind the counter taking orders, pen in one hand and coffee cup in the other, when the bell over the door chimes lightly. He glances up on automatic while scrawling the name  _ Ellen _ on a cup and sees someone join the line behind the regular he’s serving. Blaine grabs a second cup from the pile and puts it in front of him, ready as Ellen choses her order.

Once her triple shot cappuccino with an extra energy bolt and a chai-infused muffin is rung up, Blaine grabs his sharpie again and fixes the new customer with a bright smile. “Hi there, welcome to Bean and Blossom, what -”

His tongue trips and he stammers to a halt because this man is  _ stunning _ . He’s captivated by his eyes for a moment ( _ so, so blue _ ) before he comes back to himself and manages the rest of his sentence.

“Hi,” the guy says nervously, “Um, can I get a - a mocha, with, um, two shots? And a - I’m sorry, I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

Blaine’s heart melts and he resists the urge to grab the stranger’s hand. “No problem. Are you looking for confidence, energy or enthusiasm shots this morning? We also offer focus brownies and concentration cookies.”

“Um,” he tilts his head, putting a finger to his mouth. Blaine stares uselessly, mouth half-open and pen hanging loose in his fingers. “Can I get… confidence?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine nods, snaps himself out of his daze with a sharp jolt, “Can I get anything else for you?”

“No, um, I think that’s it. Thank you.”

“Great. And your name?”

“Kurt,” the stranger says, and Blaine shivers for no reason other than Kurt’s voice is probably the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. 

Tina takes over from there, humming as blue energy buzzes around her fingertips, imbuing the coffee with her own brand of confidence, the cup hovering beneath the machine without being touched. The stranger -  _ Kurt _ \- watches, clutching a portfolio to his chest. He looks nervous, and Blaine figures he’s probably never had magic-imbued coffee before. He throws him a reassuring smile, but then the door opens and several more regulars come in, and by the time Blaine’s done processing their orders Kurt has disappeared out of the door, taking Blaine’s attention span and focus with him.

He eats three concentration cookies and still finds himself zoning out, chin propped on his hands and mind wandering to thoughts of this mysterious customer. Tina zaps him in the ribs several times, but he still can’t stop thinking about Kurt.

“I haven’t seen you like this since Sebastian, and that was a love spell,” Tina says, concerned, “Are you sure he didn’t cast something on you? I would have felt it.”

Blaine knows what it feels like to be bewitched, and that’s not what he’s feeling. He’s just… in those few moments of interaction, he’s developed a crush.

“I’m twenty five years old,” he says to Tina as they close up, “I’m too old to have a crush.”

“Are you kidding?” Tina shakes her head as they lock the doors and roll down the shutters with anti-graffiti wards cast on them, “You’re never too old to have a crush.”

Kurt surfaces in his dreams that night. Since he perfected his nightmare deterrent succulent garden after Sebastian, most of his nights are either dreamless or so unremarkable he doesn’t remember them. But that night, Kurt is there.

Blaine dreams they walk in silence through a garden. Dream-Kurt puts his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and draws them to a stop, looks into his eyes. “ _ I’m not really sure what I’m doing _ ,” Dream-Kurt says.

“ _ Me neither,” _ Blaine says, relieved. Behind him, daffodils bloom.

“ _ Can I get confidence? _ ”

Blaine frowns. Dream-Kurt keeps looking at him, smiling. “ _ Can I get a mocha with two shots? _ ”

Blaine feels like he’s missing something. “ _ What? _ ”

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Dream-Kurt says.

The dream dissipates, and Blaine sinks into deeper sleep.

When he wakes the next morning, one of his cacti has bloomed. Half-asleep, Blaine reaches out to touch it, pricks himself on a spine and mumbles a curse. It’s the difficult moonflower, the one he nicknamed Lupin out of frustration when three straight evenings of growth spells failed to produce even the slightest hint of a bud.

But Lupin has bloomed.

Blaine stares at the tiny succulent, and groans. Usually, after good dreams, his more agreeable plants bud or bloom, but he refuses to look too deep into this one. Obviously his growth spells just had a delayed effect.  _ Nothing _ to do with his stupid crush on Kurt the handsome stranger.

When he checks the clock, it’s seven AM. The shop will be just opening below his tiny apartment, and he figures he might as well get up and help. Jane and Mason are opening today, with Mason’s sister coming in at ten to help with the lunch rush, but Blaine hasn’t redone his focus spells on the mini sunflowers in a while, and they’re probably waning a little.

He gets up, showers and dresses slowly. Ties his daisy-patterned bowtie and checks on his delicate moonflower for a second time. As the light pours in through his curtains the flower begins to fold away, but before it can completely disappear Blaine snaps a picture. Proof, for Tina.

He’s pushing open the door to the shop when someone walks directly into it. A cup of coffee drops to the floor, followed by several sheets of paper, and Blaine drops to his knees immediately to help pick them up, opening his mouth to apologise -

And then he looks up and sees that the someone who walked into the door and was knocked on their ass is Kurt.

“Oh my god,” he scrambles over and helps Kurt up, gesturing the wood-handled mop over from behind the counter with a flick of his wrist, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming -”

Kurt rubs his forehead where it connected with the doorframe. “No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going - oh. Hi.”

He gives Blaine a smile that’s a little bashful and a little flirty all in one go. Blaine gives him a nervous smile back, and looks down at the mess of coffee and papers at their feet, swiftly being collated by the frantically moving mop. “Uh, were these - oh, they’re sketches, right?” he kneels again, starts picking them up out of the rapidly disappearing puddle of mocha, “Are they yours?”

“Yeah, but they’re not - not really anything,” Kurt looks flustered, “It’s fine, you can put them in the trash.”

“No, no, they’re really good,” Blaine can see through the brown stains that they’re beautiful, flowing designs of menswear, “Do you - I mean, can you, um - do you -”

His words trip and stumble over each other, and he backs off, frustrated. It’s not like him to lose his cool like this, but Kurt’s looking at him, blue eyes ridiculously stunning and his half-smile making Blaine’s knees weak.

“Uh, I - sorry,” he rubs a hand over his face, “I’m not usually this… loopy.”

To his surprise, Kurt laughs. “I’m glad it’s not just me,” he says, picking up the last of the dripping sketches, “You’re Blaine, right?”

Blaine’s stomach does several backflips. “Yes. Yes, I - that’s me. Um, how did you -?”

“The barista told me,” Kurt tosses the sketches into a nearby trashcan with a wry smile, “Listen, I’m late for work, but I left my number with her. Can I come back at lunch, get one of those confidence cookies and maybe get your number too?”

“Sure,” Blaine says, his mouth dry, “That sounds… awesome.”

“Great,” Kurt steps back, nearly trips over the mop and stumbles out of the door, “Lunch! I’ll be there!”

“Me too!” Blaine calls after him, feeling like his heart has just melted all over his ribs. 

“Who’s that?” Jane asks, coming up beside him, “He left his number with me, I figured he had an order to collect or something.”

“His name’s Kurt,” Blaine says, “And I think he has a crush on me.”

“Good thing he’d so charming,” Jane says dryly, grabbing the mop and bucket and casting a quick clean-up spell with her spare hand, “Or you might have ended up stuttering him out of here.”

Blaine doesn’t even register the jab, his smile hurting his cheeks it’s so wide. He’s definitely been charmed, but he doesn’t have a problem with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plant meanings:  
> moonflower: dreaming of love  
> daisy: beauty unknown to possessor  
> sunflowers: pure and lofty thoughts  
> they're mostly for my benefit while writing, but i figured some of you might enjoy knowing this!


	4. dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some (not season appropriate) summer family!klaine

Blaine glances out of the window as he layers freshly grilled chicken on the wholewheat bread Kurt and Hepburn picked up from the store that morning. It’s the first family holiday they’ve been on since before they adopted Avery, and Kurt’s been working ridiculously hard the past few months so Blaine is  _ trying  _ to get him to relax.

But instead his husband is racing around on the hard packed dirt outside of this picturesque cabin by a lake that they’ve rented, chasing Hepburn with a water gun as Avery plays with her trucks under an umbrella. It’s the hottest day of the year, and Blaine’s been trying to keep everyone inside in the air conditioned living room, but they’re insisting on going out.

“The whole point of a holiday is to relax,” he mutters to himself, slicing avocado. As if Kurt’s ever been good at relaxing when he’s supposed to.

The grill and sun streaming through the window have turned the kitchen into more of an oven. Sweat makes Blaine’s thin cotton shirt stick to his back and under his arms, but he knows stepping outside will only make it worse.

A shriek draws his attention, and he sees Kurt dangling Hepburn over the edge of the pier as their son screams. Rolling his eyes, Blaine piles the last chicken avocado sandwich onto a plate and crosses the room to the dining table to place them between the four places set.

“Lunch, darlings!” he yells, padding to the doorway and shading his eyes so he can see what’s going on, “Sandwiches are ready!”

He’s drowned out by Hepburn’s hysterical giggling as he’s deposited on the pier in a pile of limbs. Rolling his eyes, Blaine steps out into the sun, immediately feeling sweat bead on his forehead as he heads towards his family.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Kurt says cheerily, “Here to join us?”

“Daddy!” Hepburn yells, “Grab a water gun!”

“Here to tell you that lunch is ready,” Blaine says, grinning as Kurt grabs his hips and tugs him in for a brief kiss, “You’re gross.”

“Maybe we should take a dip,” Kurt gestures to the clear waters of the lake, “That  _ is _ why we rented this place after all.”

“It’s lunch,” Blaine says firmly, picking a piece of grass out of Hepburn’s hair, “C’mon. Both of you. Heps, grab your sister, okay? There’s sandwiches on the table.”

Hepburn tosses his water gun to the side and starts up towards the cabin, stopping to take Avery with him. Kurt pushes his hair off his forehead and takes Blaine’s hand. “Thanks for making lunch, honey.”

“Well, you’ve been working so hard for these past few months, it’s the least I can do,” Blaine fixes the collar of Kurt’s short-sleeved button-up, “You can relax, you know? The kids can entertain themselves.”

“I am relaxing, sweetie,” Kurt murmurs, “Aren’t you?”

“I just - you don’t have to run around with Heps all day. You can take a nap in the sun or read a book or something.”

“Hey, I’m enjoying myself,” Kurt puts his hands on Blaine’s waist, “I’m sleeping for nine hours every night in a king sized bed next to my beautiful husband. What more could I ask for?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Of course I do,” Kurt’s sun-freckled face scrunches up with a smile and he kisses Blaine’s forehead. “You feel warm.”

“I am warm,” Blaine plucks uselessly at his t-shirt, “Grilling chicken on the hottest day of the year wasn’t exactly smart.”

“I bet it’ll taste incredible, though,” Kurt grins, “And I have a perfect way for us to cool down before we get lunch.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine glances over his shoulder to check on their kids. Hepburn is helping Avery climb onto a seat at the picnic table, two sandwiches set on plates between them.

He’s about to call out to his son to thank him when Kurt quite literally sweeps him off his feet. Blaine shrieks, throws his arms around Kurt’s neck, and glares at his husband. “What are you -”

Kurt takes several exaggerated steps towards the edge of the pier. “One…”

“Oh my god. Kurt, no, do not throw me in the lake.”

“Two…”

“Kurt!”

“I know you don’t have your phone in your pocket. Three…”

“Kurt Hummel don’t you  _ dare _ -”

Before he can finish his threat Kurt takes a running jump into the lake. The cold water crashes over them, and Blaine screams and flails his legs, still clinging to Kurt when they surface.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt says with a grin. His hair is plastered to his head, almost covering his eyes as he shakes his head back and forth like a dog.

“You’re the worst,” Blaine mutters. 

“But you love me.”

“I do,” he cups his husband’s face and presses a kiss to his cold lips, “C’mon. Let’s get lunch.”


	5. early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt loves watching blaine sleep, basically.

Kurt isn’t a morning person.

He’s not like his husband - able to wake up ridiculously early and still be peppy and cheerful. It takes him several cups of coffee before he’s able to smile at anyone. Usually, Blaine’s awake before him, making breakfast or watching TV with the volume turned down low before Kurt even manages to pull himself out of bed.

But once in a blue moon, he wakes up before Blaine.

It’s early Christmas morning, and Kurt’s awake because he can faintly hear kids screeching outside. Snowfall has been heavy this winter, and exhausted parents have probably sent their sugar-high kids outside as they get breakfast ready. He grumbles, tries to burrow back down under the covers, but the piercing screams have done their job - sleep has fled his grasp.

He sighs, sits up a little to check the clock. It’s seven thirty. There’s a chance his Dad and Carole will be awake, but they’re likely still in bed as well. There’s no reason to be up yet. The only person who got up early for Christmas was Finn.

Kurt lies back down, turns his back to the clock and comes face to face with his husband.

Blaine’s still fast asleep, the covers pulled up to his chin. He’s breathing softly, body curled up into a comma shape. Kurt lowers his head to the pillow and looks at his husband’s face. There’s a crease on his temple from the pillowcase, and Kurt lifts a hand to run his thumb over Blaine’s cheekbone. His eyelids flutter and he purses his lips, but stays asleep. Kurt smiles, leans in to press a gentle kiss to the bump on Blaine’s nose that he loves so much.

He rarely gets a chance to admire Blaine like this, tan and beautiful against Kurt’s ivory sheets. His curls fall over his forehead and Kurt thinks he looks like he could be carved from marble. Michelangelo's David has  _ nothing _ on Blaine.

Gently, Kurt traces the perfect bow of Blaine’s lips, trails his fingers over the stubble coming on his jaw. He looks like something right out of Kurt’s dreams.

Kurt can’t resist. He rolls back over, careful not to disturb Blaine, and grabs his phone, props himself up on one elbow and snaps a photo. And then another, because Blaine looks like an angel straight from heaven.

Before he can slide back under the covers and continue admiring his husband, there’s the roar of a starting car outside the house. Blaine jolts, furrows his brows and cracks one eye open. “ _ Mm _ .”

Kurt doesn’t say anything, waiting to see if Blaine slips back into sleep or stays awake. Apparently his time of shameless adoration is over, because Blaine yawns, wrinkles his nose and opens both eyes.

“Morning,” he says sleepily, making eye contact with Kurt. Kurt smiles, tosses his phone down by his feet and snuggles in close, rubbing the tip of his nose against Blaine’s. “Morning, beautiful.”

Blaine gives him a sleepy-embarrassed smile. “Shush.”

“You’re a work of art this morning,” Kurt tells him, “Christmas looks good on you.”

Blaine blinks several times and then gasps. “It’s Christmas.”

“Mm,” Kurt cups his face, “It is.”

Blaine stretches, writhes against the sheets a little and then collapses into Kurt’s body with a sigh. “Christmas looks good on you too.”

Kurt sincerely doubts there’s anyone on earth who looks as good as Blaine Hummel does right now.

“Are Burt and Carole waiting?” Blaine’s eyes are that particular shade of honey-brown that they always are when he wakes up, “Should I get up?”

“No,” Kurt leans in, presses a gentle kiss to Blaine’s lips, “Stay in here, with me.”

Blaine’s cold feet press against Kurt’s shins, his hands slide up the back of Kurt’s shirt, the material of his wedding ring cool on his spine. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, presses their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Blaine gives him a sweet smile, “More than anything.”

He tucks his head under Kurt’s chin, his breath coasting over Kurt’s collarbones. Kurt closes his eyes, buries his face in Blaine’s hair and breathes in the smell of him.

Christmas can wait. 


	6. fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine loves kurt. a lot.

It’s after 11PM on Christmas Day. Burt and Carole have gone to bed already after a huge meal and one too many glasses of eggnog. The TV is playing a fake fireplace, with an electric heater doing all of the legwork in terms of keeping the room warm. Burt’s iPod is playing Christmas Carols, there’s snow drifting down outside the window, and Kurt’s fast asleep on Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine’s tired, too, and not all that comfortable on the Hudson-Hummel’s ancient couch. He has so many memories of this couch, both good and bad. Sitting nervously next to Kurt while meeting Burt and Carole officially, sweating in his cardigan. Horizontal with Kurt on top of him, taking advantage of an empty house. Playing video games with Finn. Crying, in the days after the news broke and the funeral. Sleeping there because Kurt was too fragile to be left alone, curled up in the armchair with their hands joined.

He looks down at his husband, hair messy under his red Santa hat. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, and he looks positively angelic in the gentle lights from the tree. Takes his hand - his left hand - and brings them up in front of him, watching the twinkling lights reflect off their rings.

Their hands together, fair and tan skin in the multicoloured light. Kurt’s hands are always moving when he’s awake, deft and quick, and now they’re loose in Blaine’s he marvels at how strong and capable they are. How strong and capable  _ Kurt  _ is.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “You’re the love of my life.”

His husband drools on his shoulder, a little.

Kurt awake and Kurt asleep are two different beasts. Kurt awake is simultaneously spiky and soft, vulnerable in odd moments and strong and unmovable in others, variable and stunning. But Kurt asleep is honestly what Blaine thinks is the definition of classic beauty. Not that Kurt awake isn’t beautiful, but it’s different.

The clock hits eleven thirty. Kurt snuffles a little, rubs his face against Blaine’s shoulder and squeezes his hand. “ _ Mm _ .”

Blaine snorts. “We can’t sleep on this couch, Kurt,” he says quietly, “We won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Kurt yawns, opens one eye. “‘M not asleep.”

Blaine can’t help it, he laughs. “Sure.”

Kurt stretches up, cups his jaw. “You look pretty ‘n pretty ‘n pretty.”

Sleepy Kurt is also brutally, sweetly honest.

“You look pretty and pretty and pretty,” Blaine leans in, nudges the hat off so he can kiss him on the forehead, “C’mon. Let’s get to bed, huh?”

“Get into bed with you any day,” Kurt gives him a flirty smile, “Mr. Hummel.”

“As would I, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine hauls them both off the couch, wraps an arm around Kurt’s waist to keep them both upright. Together, they shuffle over to the heater, turn it off. Switch off the TV and Christmas Lights, turn off the carols, and start up the stairs.

“I love you,” Kurt says softly, in the darkness of their room. Blaine smiles from across the bed at him, stripping off his jeans and sweater and changing into pajamas. “I love you too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Kurt says, as they get into bed.

Blaine shivers at the cool sheets, squirms forward and clings to Kurt. “Merry Christmas.”

“Did you get what you wanted?”

Blaine hums. “Of course I did.”

“Really?”

He tilts his head back, grins. “All I wanted was you.”

Kurt sighs softly, and says, “Don’t go anywhere without me.”

“Not planning on it,” Blaine murmurs. Kurt doesn’t reply, and his soft breathing tells that he’s fallen asleep.

_ As if I could ever leave him _ , Blaine thinks as he falls asleep,  _ not as long as I live, and probably not after that, too. _


	7. guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> santana, kurt & blaine friendship fic.

Santana gets the text two and a half hours before the end of her shift.

_ From: Hummel’s Boy _ _   
_ _ Just touched down!! I’m so excited!! Does Kurt know? _

She rolls her eyes, pauses in the middle of cleaning a table to text back.

_ To: Hummel’s Boy _ _   
_ _ no n he wont as long as u keep ur mouth shut. dani will b at arrivals. _

_ From: Hummel’s Boy _ _   
_ _ Ok!!! Thank you!! See you soon Tana!!! :-D _

“Who are you texting?” Kurt asks, coming up behind her, “Dani? Is she feeling better yet?”

“Not yet,” Santana lies. When Blaine came to her asking to help him set up a surprise visit for Kurt, she couldn’t exactly say no. Dani’s supposed illness is covering for the time she needs to pick Blaine up from the airport, get everyone out of the loft and get set up for Kurt’s return.

“Tell her I hope she feels better soon,” Kurt says brightly. Santana watches him walk away and thinks,  _ you have no idea what’s coming boy _ .

The time seems to crawl as the end of her shift nears. When the clock finally hits 3 PM, she and Kurt stuff their aprons in their bag and head out of the café to catch the train back home.

“I’m so tired,” Kurt moans as they wait on the platform, “I’m probably going to fall asleep during skype with Blaine tonight.”

“What, during your vanilla cybersex?” Santana teases, “I doubt he’d notice.”

Kurt nudges her lightly. “What we do in our time is none of your business, but I’ll have you know it’s most definitely not vanilla.”

“Having a tongue piercing doesn’t make you kinky, Hummel,” she tells him as their train arrives, “Get back to me when either of you has a toy collection like mine.”

Kurt shudders and shakes his head. “Conversation over.”

Covertly, she texts Blaine.

_ To: Hummel’s Boy _ _   
_ _ were on the way back. r u ready or do u need me 2 stall _

_ From: Hummel’s Boy _ _   
_ _ No I’m ready!! Thank you!! :-] _

Kurt’s complaining about his workload as they pull into their station, and Santana rolls her eyes and makes all the right noises as they walk down the street and towards their apartment building, sending Dani a heads up.  _ turn on the smooth jazz & fairy lights, bc gay falcon is coming in. _

“Are you even listening?” Kurt asks as they climb the stairs, “I’ve been talking for ten minutes and you haven’t called me any names. Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, you were talking?” she fakes surprise, “I thought I could hear an aged up Dakota Fanning.”

“Whatever,” Kurt unlocks the front door, “You know you love me - wait, what the hell happened to the loft?”

When Santana looks over his shoulder, the space has been completely transformed. Fairy lights strung up light the apartment with a soft glow, accentuated by candles placed on various surfaces. There’s a huge bouquet of flowers on the table, and a big bottle of champagne.

“I didn’t know Dani had a romantic streak?” Kurt says with a wry grin, but there’s a note of sadness in his eyes as well. Santana just shrugs, pushes him inside, and then:

“Guess who?”

Kurt literally drops his bag. It falls to the floor as Blaine steps out from behind one of the curtains, holding a smaller bouquet of red and yellow roses.

“Hey, fiancé,” he says, and Kurt immediately bursts into tears as he crosses the room to seize Blaine into a hug.

Dani sidles up to her, takes her hand. “They really love each other, don’t they?”

“It’s disgusting,” Santana tugs her back as Kurt kisses Blaine, both of them crying now, “C’mon, let’s go get coffee or something, let them bang it out.”

“I know you think it’s cute,” Dani says, grinning as they shut the door to the loft and lock it, “You love them both.”

“Don’t remind me,” Santana says airily, but she can’t help the smile tugging at her lips.


	8. hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meet cute, facilitated by adele.

It all starts with hello.

Well. Technically it all starts with  _ Hello _ by Adele. Blaine’s watering plants on his balcony, his rescue whippet snuffling about in his lavender plant and snapping at flies. It’s his first day off since starting his role as Eliza in Broadway’s new role-swapped production of Hamilton, and he’s looking forward to not doing anything.

“Don’t do that,” he tells Mocha lightly, tapping her on the head as Adele starts to play from the apartment next door to him, “That’s not good for you.”

She eyes him up while slowly chewing on a piece of lavender. Blaine pulls it out of her mouth, tosses it over the edge of the balcony and -

“ _ Hello from the outsi-ide, I must have called a thousand ti-imes _ -”

He accidentally splashes a little water on Mocha’s head as the voices soars through the air. His neighbour’s door to the balcony is open, and Blaine can hear this voice singing. He turns to the open door, tipping water into his fuschias, and listens.

“ _ To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done, but when I call you never  _ \- oh, goddammit.”

The voice stops singing and Blaine realises the owner is getting closer. He jerks back, spills water on his socks, and ends up standing stock still when the person singing from within apartment 23B emerges out onto their balcony, carrying a small table.

He hasn’t noticed Blaine, yet, so he should step back inside and stop staring, but he just - can’t.

The man is  _ beautiful _ . His chestnut hair shines in the late morning sunlight, and he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt that hugs his biceps and shorts that show off his long legs. Blaine’s pretty sure he lets out a sigh, and that’s what gets his attention.

“Oh my god! Jesus, you scared the life out of me -”

Blaine realises his fuschia plant is now overflowing and hastily puts the watering can down. “I’m - I’m so sorry, I was listening to - I mean - I’m sorry.”

The man puts a hand to his chest and laughs. “It’s no problem, I - hold on a second.”

Blaine braces himself internally for the inevitable  _ were you watching me? _

“You’re Blaine Anderson, right?”

Blaine is glad he put the watering can down, because this attractive stranger knows his  _ name _ .

“I am,” he says, his mouth painfully dry, “Uh, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

The stranger gives him a  _ blinding _ smile. “You’re playing Eliza in Hamilton, right? I’ve been  _ dying _ to see it!”

Blaine almost staggers a little. The attractive stranger knows his  _ name _ , his  _ job _ and wants to  _ see him _ .

“I am,” he says a little breathily, “It’s nice to meet you.”

The stranger plucks at his shirt. “I wish I was better dressed, I’m just moving in, I - oh, god, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine says, and the stranger -  _ Kurt _ \- leans over the edge of his balcony and extends a hand to Blaine.

Blaine takes it, shakes eagerly. Kurt is still smiling, and Blaine can’t really find the words to say…  _ anything _ .

“Hi,” Kurt grins at him, “I’m actually working at a theatre just down the street from the Richard Rogers - on the new Welcome to Nightvale play? I’m doing costumes.”

“You design?”

“I worked for Vogue,” Kurt says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. Blaine’s knees are  _ weak _ . “But daywear is just a little - I don’t know. It’s fun, but theatre just allows you to get so much more  _ crazy _ .”

“Wow,” Blaine says, eyes wide, “That’s amazing.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Kurt looks a little embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I - do you need to get back to something?”

“No, no, actually,” Blaine speaks before he can think, “If you wanted, I have iced coffee and cheesecake in my fridge.”

Kurt just stares at him, and Blaine scrambles to justify himself. “I mean - the last guy who lived there was a total asshole, so I figured it’d be nice to get to know his replacement a little better.”

Kurt gives him another one of those blinding smiles, his eyes crinkling up. “I’d love that.”

“Do you mind dogs? I have a dog.”

“I love dogs,” Kurt jabs his thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll, uh, come and knock on your door?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, his mouth dry, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Kurt flickers a wave at him and heads back into his apartment, and Blaine sinks down behind the ledge of the balcony and stares at Mocha, who has another sprig of lavender in her mouth. Blaine grabs her head and stares into her eyes, hissing “ _ Mocha, he knows my name _ .”

She spits out the lavender into his lap and hares away as someone knocks on the door.

Hastily, Blaine gets to his feet, brushes his knees clean and crosses through to the front door. He doesn’t have time to pick up the coffee cups on the kitchen table or brush the crumbs of the side or pick up Mocha’s squeaky duck, so he just pushes it all to the back of his mind and throws open the front door.

“Hey!” he tries to sound relaxed but fails, “Uh, come on in!”

Kurt slides past and bends to meet Mocha. “Hey there, sweetie! Oh my god, she’s adorable, what’s her name?”

“Mocha,” Blaine hovers awkwardly behind him, “She’s, uh, a rescue.”

“So you’re cute and a good person,” Kurt grins at him, “Looks like I picked the perfect neighbour.”

Blaine quite literally squeaks, the huge grin on his face giving away how happy that makes him. “I - well. Uh. Coffee?”

“Lead the way,” Kurt follows him through to the kitchen, “Though I should confess something.”

“Yes?” Blaine turns as he opens the fridge. Kurt gives him a slightly bashful grin, looking nervous. “I may have read your interview with Out Magazine. The one where you said you were gay.”

Blaine feels his eyes widen. He stares at Kurt, mouth open.

“I hope I’m not coming on too strong, but you’re very talented and you seem like a great guy,” Kurt takes a step back, “If you’re interested, I’d love it if we could maybe take a walk around the block? If not, that’s fine, but -”

“Yes,” Blaine says quickly, “Yes.  _ Yes _ . I would love that.”

Kurt inhales sharply and his whole demeanour changes. “You would?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Blaine nods, shutting the door of the fridge behind him, “I would.”

“Great,” Kurt glances over his shoulder, “Um, now?”

Blaine nods even harder.

“Excellent,” Kurt glances at Mocha, who is rubbing her head against his legs. “Should we bring -”

“If you want to?”

“I’d love to,” Kurt says, and smiles.

When they tell the story of how they met to their kids years later, a story well practised, both of them will say with a smile; _i_ _ t all started with Hello. _


	9. impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what i wish happened in michael, basically.

Blaine is  _ bored _ .

He’s been on the couch for three hours now, because making his way upstairs without adequate depth perception - even with both of his parents clinging onto him for dear life - is pretty terrifying and he kind of hates it. He can’t read, because it hurts his eye, and he can’t watch TV because it gives him a headache, so he’s stuck listening to the same audio book of  _ The Hobbit _ over and over again.

The last time he listened to it, it was in the days after Sadie Hawkins when he was concussed and silence terrified him, so. It’s not exactly the best distraction.

Kurt’s supposed to drop by, but Blaine’s phone is stuck somewhere in the couch cushions and he can’t find it to text him. So he just lays there, listening to some British man slowly tell the story of Bilbo Baggins for the third time in as many days.

“Blaine, sweetie?”

He opens his eyes and grimaces as pain shoots through his right eye. His arm buckles, pulling his earbuds out, and he falls back onto his side with a soft whimper of pain, lifting an uncertain hand to cover his eye.

“Honey, are you okay?” a gentle hand touches his elbow, “Should I get your mom?”

Blaine turns and sees Kurt, crouching by the edge of the couch. “Kurt,” he says woozily, “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” Kurt cups his jaw, runs his thumb across the skin below Blaine’s eyepatch, “Oh, baby, your skin’s so dry.”

Blaine flinches. “It hurts to touch.” All the swabs and the slushie itself has left the right side of his face raw and painful.

“I picked up a really gentle moisturiser,” Kurt takes his hand instead, rubbing his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles instead, “You look tired.”

Blaine looks down at Kurt’s hands so he can make sure he’s properly holding it back and sees -

“What happened?”

Kurt’s knuckles are red and swollen, with a cut crossing one of them. Kurt glances down at his hand and pulls it away, tucking it by his side. “Nothing, nothing. I was stupid.”

Blaine starts to get up, his mind focusing on the gel ice packs in the freezer. “You should -”

He stumbles and Kurt catches him, gently. “Sweetheart, sit down. I’m fine.”

Blaine points at him. “Ice pack.”

“You want one?”

“ _ You _ ,” he points again, “You need that hand. For  _ things _ .”

He can’t really focus on exactly what things right now, but he is very sure that Kurt’s right hand is important for a lot of things.

“Okay,” Kurt leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, “I’ll get one. And I’ll get you one as well, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Blaine relaxes back into the couch, reassured, and plants his elbow on his phone.

Surprised, he pulls it out and peers at it, his left eye struggling to focus. There are a few texts waiting for him - one from Kurt ( _ I’m on my way and I have some good news. Love you xoxoxoxo _ ) and one from Tina, with an attachment. It just reads,  _ u should probs watch this _ .

Blaine fumbles to open the text. The attachment is a video, but his ears hurt from having headphones on so he pulls them out and plays the clip out loud.

It’s the New Directions, performing. Michael’s  _ Black or White _ . Blaine wrinkles his nose. He’ll happily go the rest of his life without hearing a Michael Jackson song. And Kurt’s not even performing, so who  _ cares _ .

Luckily the video starts towards the end of the performance, so he doesn’t have to listen for long. Santana’s talking, telling Sebastian that they could call the cops on him, get him kicked out of school.

Sebastian laughs tinnily, steps up onto the stage. “ _ You have nothing. And you know what? That slushie was aimed at you, Hummel, but I’m glad it hit your boy toy. Maybe he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut next ti - _ ”

Blaine is not expecting what happens next, because suddenly Kurt steps out of the crowd, takes two deliberate strides forward and brings his fist up in a perfect right straight.

It collides with Sebastian’s jaw, the impact causing an audible  _ smack _ . It sends him sprawling, and there’s a series of shouts and shrieks and then the video stops.

Kurt punched Sebastian.

Kurt punched Sebastian in the  _ face _ .

He jabs his thumb at the video and manages to rewind a few seconds, playing it from the start of Santana’s speech.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Kurt flops down onto the couch beside him with an ice pack in each hand, “What are you - oh, god.”

“Kurt, what did you  _ do? _ ” Blaine turns to him, “Why did you  _ do that? _ ”

Kurt presses one of the gel packs to his knuckles, looking embarrassed. “I lost my cool.”

“You punched him,” Blaine whispers, feeling tears well up in his eyes, “You could be  _ expelled _ .”

“I won’t be, not with what we’ve got on him,” Kurt reaches out for his phone, places it on the coffee table, “Santana got proof of what he put in the rock salt, and they wanted to just - give it to him. Say that beating him at Regionals would be enough, and I just kind of lost it.”

Blaine sniffles. “I love you.”

“I - what? You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m too high to be mad,” Blaine reaches out for him, “You punched him for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, B,” Kurt puts his arms around Blaine, lifts him into his lap like it’s nothing, “Including punch a slimeball like Sebastian.”

Blaine sniffles and curls into Kurt. “You make me feel so safe.”

“Good,” Kurt holds him tighter, “Because I feel the same way about you.”


	10. journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt doesn't listen to journey any more.

Kurt can’t listen to Journey any more.

It was Finn’s band, Finn’s songs. Even thinking about it was enough to bring tears to his eyes in the first few weeks afterwards. Since then, their entire discography has been deleted from is iTunes. The CDs were banished to the back of a cupboard, any recordings of their performances placed into a folder on his hard drive just called  _ Finn. _

He goes years without hearing their songs. Blaine doesn’t try to play them either, understanding the link to Finn that they hold for Kurt. Even as the pain gets easier to deal with, and other things like video games and football jerseys stop making a pang shoot through his heart, Journey still hurts.

Until one day in February, when he walks through the door into their apartment and hears Blaine singing.

“ _ Somewhere, someplace, somehow I’ll find her then as I did now, just for a moment… _ ”

The song evokes a memory so vivid it feels like he’s been grabbed and hauled backwards through the years until he’s standing outside Finn’s room after a breakup with Rachel, listening to him play  _ We Will Meet Again _ over and over and over. He drops his bag and stumbles through to the doorway to the kitchen, where Blaine stands at the sink doing the dishes, still singing.

“ _ And if she were standing in the crowd, she’d be the one I would find among the faces, and if the music were too loud, it’d be her voice that I would hear _ …”

Tears come to his eyes. He remembers Finn looping the last four songs from Journey’s 2001 album endlessly, remembers getting so sick of hearing them that he’d blast  _ Wicked _ from his room just to drown it out. The lump in his throat is too thick for him to say anything, so he just stands in the doorway and listens to Blaine sing.

“ _ On my heart it’s written, we will meet again, from this day till _ \- Kurt? Oh my god, when did you get back?”

Kurt blinks several times and realises he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen with tears still pouring down his face. He takes a shaky breath, and then Blaine’s hands fly up to his mouth and his eyes widen. “God, I didn’t - I was singing - oh, Kurt, I’m so  _ sorry _ .”

“It’s okay,” Kurt manages as Blaine dries his hands and stands in front of him, “It’s okay, I just - I just -”

They talk about Finn a lot, but this feels personal. It’s not something Kurt’s ever shared before.

“He used to listen to that song every time he and Rachel broke up,” he wipes his eyes, “I’d forgotten, and it just - I would get so mad at him, tell him to get over it, and I wish I had listened -”

A sob explodes from his throat and Blaine flings himself forward, wraps Kurt up in one of those tight, squeezing, Blaine Hummel™ hugs that makes him feel like all the bad things are being held at bay.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, I won’t sing it again.”

“ _ No _ ,” Kurt says sharply, “No, don’t, it’s been too long. I don’t - I  _ won’t _ lose those memories of him just because it hurts to remember them.”

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes so filled with concern and love that it makes the tears that were just starting to ebb trickle down his cheeks again. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Kurt turns his face into Blaine’s hand, lets his husband wipe away his tears, “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Blaine leans up, kisses him gently, “Let’s go and sit down, okay? Let me hug you until you feel better.”

Kurt lets out a half-laugh, half sob. “As if I’d ever turn down a hug from you.”

“Good,” Blaine takes his hand, “That’s what husbands are for. Hugs.”

“I love you,” Kurt says, letting Blaine sit him down on the couch, “So much.”

“I love you too,” Blaine curls into his side, still thumbing away the occasional, “Do you want to talk?”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head, “Just need you close.”

Blaine’s arms wrap around him so tight it almost hurts. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” Kurt murmurs.

The pain is still there, and some days it hits harder and lasts longer than others. But with Blaine at his side, Kurt knows he’ll get through it. They both will.


	11. kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt has a cute valentine's idea. follow up to day 8, hello.

It’s their first Valentine’s day together, and this is not how Kurt wanted it to go.

When he turned to the internet for cute ideas of how to show Blaine his love, the idea of hiding little clusters of his boyfriend’s favourite type of Hershey’s kisses around the apartment seemed perfect. It wouldn’t matter that they’d have to spend the evening apart at their respective shows, and Blaine would probably be finding them days afterwards. In his head, it was the perfect idea.

In reality, Mocha’s nose is far better at searching out chocolate than Blaine’s eyes are, and Kurt’s idea turns out to be absolutely terrible.

“I’m so sorry,” he says for the millionth time as they sit in the waiting room of the emergency veterinarian, “I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Blaine says for the millionth time, his hands petting at Mocha where she sits in his lap slowly. He hasn’t made eye contact since they realised that Mocha’s uncharacteristic silence wasn’t because she was asleep but because she had consumed approximately fifteen different foil-wrapped Hershey’s kisses and was searching for more.

“I’ll pay for her treatment,” Kurt says, picking nervously at his nail beds, “And - and anything else. I’m so sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine opens his mouth to reply, but then a veterinarian walks into the room and says loudly, “Mocha?”

“That’s us!” Blaine leaps to his feet and Kurt follows, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. If he ends up making Mocha really sick because of his stupid Valentine’s plan - if Mocha ends up  _ dying _ .

_ God, Kurt, you idiot. Of course you fuck up this relationship, one that’s really working. _

The vet listens as Blaine explains what happened, checks Mocha’s heart rate and breathing, and then sits them down to give them an answer.

“Seeing as she ate them less than two hours ago, you’ve done exactly the right thing,” she says with a smile, “We’ll give her some activated charcoal and keep her overnight just to make sure things don’t go south, but she should be fine.”

Blaine lets out an audible sigh of relief. “She’ll be okay?”

“We’d usually let her go home with you later today, but the foil does complicate things a little,” she pets Mocha’s head, “If she throws up most of it, you’ll be able to collect her this evening, but otherwise we’ll keep her until the morning.”

Blaine inhales shakily. “Oh god, thank you so much. She’ll be okay?”

“She will,” the vet squeezes Blaine’s shoulder lightly, “I’m going to take her through and get her sorted out, but if you want to wait for a few minutes I’ll be back in to let you know what we’re planning.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, but as soon as the door is closed behind her Kurt bursts into tears.

“I’m so  _ sorry _ ,” Kurt forces himself not to grab Blaine into a hug, “I c-completely forgot that dogs can’t eat chocolate and I was trying to do something n-nice for Valentine’s day -”

“Kurt, hey, don’t cry,” Blaine takes his hands, “It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s going to be fine.”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Kurt hiccups, “I’ll never -  _ ever _ \- d-do that again, I swear -”

“Kurt,” Blaine’s crying too, “It’s okay, it really is. She’s going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine.”

“If y-you want to break up,” Kurt takes a deep breath, “I understand -”

“ _ What? _ Break up? Kurt, you mean the world to me, I don’t want to break up.”

Kurt blinks several times, his tears clouding his vision. “You d-don’t?”

“No,” Blaine’s hands frame his face, brush his tears away, “You didn’t mean to make her sick, you were just trying to make our first Valentine’s special.”

Kurt lets out a shaky laugh. “I kind of fucked that up, huh?”

“Well, I’m definitely never going to forget it.”

He laughs again, and Blaine pulls him into a hug, ignoring the fact that Kurt’s nose has been running and his face is all puffy. “Come here. Let’s wait for the vet to come back and then we can get some coffee and wait for Mocha to throw up all the chocolate she ate.”

Kurt wipes his eyes,, pulling back. “Then maybe we can take her to PetSmart and I can get her a new toy or something to say sorry?”

“Sure,” Blaine kisses him gently, “Though I think she’ll be more upset about losing the Hershey’s than eating them.”

“You’re probably right,” Kurt says, and takes his hand.


	12. laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt invents husband shaming.

_ The key to a good marriage is laughter, _ Blaine’s mom told him the night he and Kurt got married.

He was helping her into the car with Burt and Carole when she grabbed his face and informed him of how to keep his marriage afloat. Blaine was high on love and excitement and the feeling of a ring on his finger, so he mostly ignored her because she was drunk and he had his husband to get back to.

But after years of marriage, he thinks she’s right.

It’s been a bad day. An argument within the first few minutes of waking up had set the mood for the entire morning, until Kurt left for work and Blaine had rehearsals. After returning, the atmosphere in the apartment was frosty, both of them working on separate sides of of the apartment without making eye contact.

Blaine’s highlighting lines he keeps forgetting in the script when their cat hops up onto the desk, butting her head against Blaine’s hand. Blaine reaches out to pet her absent-mindedly and instead of hitting fur he connects with paper.

That gets his attention. He looks up, putting his highlighter down, and sees that she has a note stuck to her back.

Blaine picks her up and plants her on his lap. “Oh, Queenie,” he mumbles, “What is this? Have you gotten into the trash again?”

But when he picks the note off her back, he sees that it’s addressed to him.

_ Turn around, Blaine _ , it says.

Blaine spins his chair and almost immediately bursts out laughing, loud enough that he scares McQueen right off his lap.

Kurt’s kneeling on the carpet behind him with a note around his neck and a sad look on his face.  _ I snap at my husband because I forgot I asked him to take my shirts to the laundry and couldn’t find what I wanted to wear. I’m sorry :( _ , the note says, with  _ #husbandshaming _ written below it.

“Oh my god, Kurt,” Blaine scoots his chair along the floor so he can take the note off his husband’s neck, “You are such a goof.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s legs, “I also bought you flowers.”

“You sweetheart,” Blaine leans down to kiss him, “You’re forgiven.”

“I’m still sorry, though,” Kurt rises up on his knees so Blaine doesn’t end up hurting his back, “Love you.”

“I love you more,” Blaine cups his husband’s face, “Why are you so stressed?”

Kurt’s shoulders slump. “The LA store isn’t doing that well. It should recover, but I’m - frustrated, and I took it out on you.”

“Talk to me, next time,” Blaine murmurs, “Maybe you should take some time off, do something off-Broadway. A good musical run always makes a guy feel better.”

“Mm,” Kurt smiles, “Maybe I’ll play the Enjolras to your Marius.”

“Or the Link to my Corny Collins,” Blaine says, with a grin. Kurt rolls his eyes. “If anyone’s going to be playing Link, it should be you.”

“Well, maybe we should perform our roles in  _ Trapped in an Elevator _ ,” Blaine winks. Kurt laughs, kisses him again. “I need to get back to work.”

“Let’s watch a movie tonight?” Blaine suggests, “Get Chinese and make out like teenagers.”

“Sounds perfect,” Kurt taps him lightly on the nose, climbs to his feet and turns back to his desk. Blaine smiles after his husband for a moment, then returns to his own work.

He keeps the note, though, in his desk drawer. It makes him laugh, and laughter is the key to a good marriage, after all.


	13. music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hepburn makes music.

Hepburn is five months old when he discovers the piano.

He’s been with them for four and a half out of the five, and they’re finally getting good at being dads. Hepburn’s sleeping through the night (sometimes) and eating solid foods (what doesn’t end up in Blaine’s hair or on Kurt’s face) and, every now and then, giving them a smile.

Blaine’s making up lunch for all three of them in the kitchen, listening to Kurt and Hepburn talk to each other in the living room. Kurt asks questions, and Heps babbles back, occasionally letting out a squeal or yell if Kurt does something he doesn’t like. The piano is plinking, probably being bashed by Hepburn’s tiny fists.

Blaine’s pureeing sweet potato and butternut squash for Hepburn and grilling chicken for him and Kurt. They’re doing their best to stay organic, but Kurt refuses to turn into one of those soccer moms who don’t even let their kids touch processed food. “I grew up on Kraft singles, and I’m fine,” he says emphatically while they walk through the grocery store, Hepburn strapped to Blaine’s chest, “A little bit of junk is good for you.”

But Hepburn’s too young for Kraft singles, so currently it’s all farmer’s market fruit and veg until he can ask for a grilled cheese himself.

Blaine puts the finishing touches to their sandwiches, spoons Hepburn’s lunch into a bowl and grabs his favourite spoon. He places everything on the table, and then walks through into the living room to collect his two boys.

Kurt’s sitting at the piano, Hepburn on his lap. He presses a key, and Heps babbles. He presses another key, and Heps drools a little on both of them.

“Why don’t I play you a song?” Kurt asks, laying both hands on the keys. Hepburn blows a raspberry.

“Here, listen, this is mine and Daddy’s song,” Kurt starts to play the introduction to  _ Come What May _ , “I had a dream that he sang this to me, once, because I love him  _ so _ much, just like I love you, Heps.”

Hepburn plonks his little fist on the keys and squeals. Kurt laughs. “C’mon, play along with Daddy. C and D and F -”

Hepburn puts both hands on the piano and then starts bashing enthusiastically, shrieking with glee. Kurt laughs, continuing to play even as Hepburn smashes away. “You’re so talented!” he hears his husband say, “Almost as good as your Daddy!”

“Which Daddy?” Blaine asks, stepping into the room, “Me or you?”

Kurt turns, holding Hepburn securely on his lap. “You obviously,” he perches their son on his hip and stands, “There’s only one man in this room who is a Grammy nominated composer, am I right, Heps?”

Hepburn gives them both a rare smile, and Blaine smiles back, crossing the room to kiss his son on the forehead and his husband on the lips. “Lunch is ready,” he says, “For our talented little music maker.”

“Music  _ makers _ ,” Kurt says with a grin, “I can play, too, you know.”

“Of course you can,” Blaine taps Kurt on the ass lightly, “Of course you can, honey.”


	14. new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine finds a puppy.

Blaine’s cutting through an alley near their apartment when he hears the whining.

It’s late, and for a second he considers just walking on, not wanting to run into some unorthodox behaviour. But the whining is constant and something in his heart tells him  _ go and look, just check _ .

It takes a few minutes to find it. A dog, crouched behind the dumpster, a cheap leash around its neck. Blaine gasps out loud, drops his bag and falls to his knees, reaching out, but it shies away.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs softly, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. Not gonna hurt you.”

Whoever left the dog here didn’t want it moving, didn’t want it seen. There’s no collar, the leash has been looped through its own handle around its neck and then tied tightly to a pipe. The cheap acrylic fabric has cut into the dog’s neck, worn the fur away.

“Oh, sweetie, who left you here?” he sits back on his heels and searches in his bag. There’s half a granola bar left, and he breaks a bit off, extends his hand out. “Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry. This isn’t really dog food, but it’s better than nothing, huh?”

He can see the poor thing’s ribs. Ignoring the gross New York debris around him, he lowers himself to his elbows and slowly moves closer.

One of the dog’s eyes - and it’s barely a dog, more of a puppy - is swollen shut. Blaine has a nasty feeling they’ve been dumped because the reality of having a dog is not exactly dreamy. It’s a few weeks after Christmas, and he would bet his left hand on the fact that someone didn’t want to clean up after this poor thing, couldn’t be bothered to pay the bill for a decent vet.

“How long have you been here, honey?” he whispers, “It’s cold, isn’t it? How about you come with me and we warm you up?”

The puppy extends its skinny neck and snuffles the granola from his hand. He rubs his thumb over his nose and then, slowly and carefully, takes the leash and loosens it. He slips the loop over the puppy’s head and then, in one smooth motion, grabs it by the scruff of the neck with one hand and pushes himself upright with the other.

It whines and tries to back away, but he scoops it up, and it doesn’t struggle much. Once they’re out in the light cast by the streetlamps, there’s visible signs of neglect.

“Whoever didn’t want you is an idiot,” he tells her (flipping her upside down, quickly, just to make sure), “Come on. Let’s get you in somewhere warm.”

He wraps his coat around her, and she shivers all the way home, her little face poking out of his jacket. His phone is buzzing in his pocket, probably Kurt calling, but he if stops to answer now it’s another minute with this poor little thing out in the cold. He’s only a few minutes from home, and it won’t take him long to get there.

When he fumbles the door open, Kurt is waiting in the corridor. “Where on earth have you been?” he starts as soon as Blaine’s inside, “I’ve been calling and calling, you weren’t answering - what happened to you, you’re filthy?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine drops his bag and keeps his jacket shut, not wanting to surprise Kurt. Mocha’s at his feet already, sniffing at his knees, and he hopes she won’t give him away in the next few seconds. “I - you know that alley behind that big brownstone? I cut behind it to get home quicker, and I heard something, and I - just promise you won’t get mad?”

Kurt’s body tenses. “Blaine. What did you do?”

Blaine opens his coat, and Kurt gasps.

“Oh my god. You - you found -?”

“She was tied up behind a dumpster, Kurt,” Blaine pleads, “I don’t know how long she was there, someone obviously didn’t want her, and I couldn’t - I’m sorry, I know we already have a dog, but -”

“Blaine Anderson, don’t you  _ dare _ apologise for being an exemplary human being,” Kurt reaches out, “Give her to me. Get changed, let me find a towel to wrap her up in - I’ll see if there are any 24 hour vets nearby, I walked Mocha so I’ll just feed her and then -”

Blaine feels like crying as he hands the shivering puppy over. “Kurt -”

“Oh, sweetie, you poor thing,” Kurt tucks the puppy against his chest, pets at her head, “Okay, seriously, go change. You smell like a dumpster.”

“Okay,” he nods, “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kurt flaps his hand at him, “I’ve got her, go, go.”

He changes fast, into a pair of Kurt’s jeans because they’re the first he sees, and a sweater that is already coated in dog fur. He’s back out into the kitchen in a few minutes, sees Kurt on the phone with Mocha inspecting the bundle on the floor.

He’s ready to leap in and stop her, but instead the puppy lifts her head and sniffs at Mocha. Mocha jumps back, tail wagging slowly, and then sits down, glancing between Blaine and the puppy as if to say  _ what the hell is this? _

“Okay,” Kurt snaps his fingers to get Blaine’s attention, “There’s a vet on the Upper East Side that’s open, I’m just gonna call a taxi and then we can go.”

“Okay,” Blaine picks up his bag again and then scoops the puppy up. She’s wrapped in one of their nice towels, and Blaine realises Kurt must have just grabbed the first one he saw. He looks across the room at his boyfriend - frantically gathering their coats, his keys, his wallet, bending to tell Mocha  _ be good for me girl, we’ll be back soon. _

“Okay,” he wraps an arm around Blaine’s waist, “Let’s go, get this girl what she needs.”

The taxi driver luckily either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the bundle of towels and fur they carry into the cab with them. Kurt gives the address, takes Blaine’s hand, and asks him, “You think we have space for a new dog?”

Blaine stares at him. “What?”

“Mocha seemed to like her,” Kurt strokes the puppy’s head as she starts to whine, “I like her. And half the shelters in New York are full.”

Blaine opens and closes his mouth, uselessly. “But Kurt you - we don’t -”

“And if you don’t want her, I’ve always wanted a dog,” Kurt gives him a hopeful smile, “Don’t answer now, just think about it.”

“Okay,” Blaine says, “I will.”

The animal hospital is pretty busy for 10pm on a Thursday evening, but they manage to skip the queue of cats that have eaten socks and dogs that won’t stop peeing and are in with a vet within five minutes.

Kurt takes Blaine’s hand and holds it tight as the vet examines the tiny puppy. He asks a few questions, listens to her heart and lungs and checks her eyes.

“Looks like she’s got an eye infection for sure, but otherwise we’ll need to take blood,” he gives them a tight smile, “Thanks for bringing her in, we’ll make sure she’s in a good shelter once she’s better.”

“No,” Kurt says, “No, no, we -  _ I _ \- want to keep her.”

The vet eyes him up suspiciously. “Treatment isn’t going to be cheap. She might not make it.”

“I don’t care,” Kurt says, “I’ll pay. Whatever it is. I’ll pay. I - my boyfriend has a dog, I know what I’m doing.”

The vet seems to relax at that admission. “Does she have a name? I’ll need to take your details when I admit her.”

“Um - Cocoa,” Kurt says, “And I’m Kurt. Hummel.”

Half an hour later, Cocoa is admitted, on fluids with the towel they brought her in still around her. Kurt crouches by her cage, poking his fingers through the mesh, mumbling his goodbyes.

Blaine waits for him by the doorway, puts an arm around him as they head back out of the vets.

“I thought I was going to think about it?” he teases as they wait for a cab. Kurt sniffs loudly and Blaine realises that there are tears tracking down his boyfriend’s face.

“Oh, god - Kurt, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I was just kidding -”

“I know, I know, I just -” Kurt wipes at his eyes furiously, “You handed her to me and she was so cold, and I held her to my chest and she licked my chin and looked up at me and I just - how can someone do that? Be so cruel to a puppy? What is  _ wrong  _ with the world?”

Blaine cups his face, wipes away his tears. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good person, Kurt?”

Kurt sniffs again, his bottom lip wobbling. “You, a million times.”

“Good,” Blaine glances over his shoulder and then leans up and presses a brief kiss to his lips. “It’s okay. We did the right thing. Hey, you did the  _ most _ right thing.”

“As if I could say no to a face like that,” Kurt inhales shakily, “Do you think she’ll make it?”

“I do,” Blaine takes his hand, “Come on. Let’s go home, get back to Mocha, and we’ll come see her in the morning.”

“Okay,” Kurt nods, “Okay. You think she’ll get along with Mocha?”

“Of course she will,” Blaine squeezes his hand tight, “Let’s go home.”

It takes two weeks before Kurt gets to bring her home. She’s still tiny, but she’s eating and yapping and chewing on everything within reach. Once all the dirt is rinsed off, she’s a light tan colour with white splotches, and Kurt laments as they bring her home that he should have called her Latte.

“We could have had Latte and Mocha,” he says, petting Cocoa’s head on the drive back, “Or Mocha and Cappucino.”

“I think Mocha and Cocoa works well,” Blaine says, trying to keep the pile of dog stuff Kurt bought from toppling. His boyfriend has gone a little over the top, buying more things than a tiny puppy could possibly need, but Blaine understands why. Kurt, as much as he pretends to be icy and cold and untouchable, cares so much that sometimes Blaine can’t quite believe he’s real.

The cab pulls up outside their apartment block, and Blaine carries the bags up while Kurt holds Cocoa. He unlocks the door, holds it open as Kurt lets her down onto the floor, kneels next to her.

“Go on, sweetie,” he taps her lightly on the back, “This is your new home. Your best friend Mocha lives right next door, and if I’m not here you’ll be with Blaine, okay?”

Tail wagging, Cocoa - still a little unsteady on her legs - sets to exploring the apartment. Blaine helps carry the bags in, stands in the kitchen with Kurt watching her enthusiastically chew at one of his table legs.

“I have some chew repellent in a cupboard somewhere,” Blaine offers, “Keep her away from your antiques.”

“I’m sure I have some in the bags somewhere,” Kurt starts to look through them, but then Cocoa lunges forwards and grabs his shirt, starts to pull and knocks him off balance.

Blaine can’t help but laugh as Kurt tries to search through the bags and stop Cocoa from unpacking everything onto the floor.

_ I really did pick the perfect man, _ he thinks to himself, and drops to his knees to help Kurt before Cocoa shreds his shirt.


	15. opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt gets to come home to blaine.

Kurt can’t get home fast enough. He’s been working nonstop for the past two weeks, with Blaine in rehearsals every spare second for three weeks. But the new issue of Vogue is out, and Blaine’s final performance was yesterday, and so Kurt’s going home to his husband without a deadline or sleep quota to fill for the first time in almost a month.

He’s so excited that he drops his keys twice while trying to unlock the apartment door. He’s been out since 7am that morning, and it’s past eight now - combine that with barely seeing Blaine between rushed kisses over the breakfast bar as one of them rushed out or a sleepy hum at midnight when the other crawled into bed. He’ll finally have an opportunity to hug his husband, to kiss him, to tell him how  _ proud _ he is that he’s finished with NYU.

Mercedes went to Blaine’s performance, because Kurt couldn’t, and thanks to the proliferation of technology throughout Tisch, they’ve hauled in some film students to record the entire performance. It’s Tisch’s largest graduating class ever, and Blaine - in one of those few moments where they were in the same room and not rushing to go anywhere - said his professor is up to his ears in grading and needs the recordings because half of his faculty are supervising other exams.

But Kurt doesn’t have to think about that, and as he shoulders the front door open and shuts it securely behind him. All he’s thinking about is Blaine, Blaine’s body, Blaine’s laugh, Blaine’s smile.  _ Blaine _ .

He drops his bag, hangs up his coat, kicks his shoes onto the rack. There’s music playing from the kitchen, and he can smell something cooking. Stir fry, maybe, or curry.

When he walks into the kitchen, Blaine’s cooking in his underwear and one of Kurt’s button ups. Kurt stops in the doorway, admires the view. Blaine’s legs are bruised and scraped in places, and Kurt remembers him complaining about being fake thrown to the ground over and over.  _ I know I’m going to drama school, but sometimes people go a little overboard with the stage fighting. _

Blaine’s swaying his hips to the music, humming as he stirs whatever’s in the pan. Kurt rarely gets opportunities like this, to just admire his husband when he’s not asleep. When he’s just existing.

“Hey, stranger.”

Blaine twists, glances over his shoulder, and then a huge smile spreads across his face. “Kurt! You’re home!”

“I’m home,” Kurt opens his arms and Blaine leaps into them, legs wrapping around Kurt’s waist. Kurt laughs, staggering backwards against the wall, and squeezes him tight. “I’ve missed you so  _ much _ .”

Blaine’s face presses against his neck, his breathing coming hard against Kurt’s throat. “It’s been weeks.”

Kurt turns his head so he can press a kiss to Blaine’s ear. “I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve touched you properly for  _ weeks _ .” Blaine’s hands fist in the back of his shirt, “God, Kurt, I’ve  _ missed _ you.”

Kurt gets the feeling Blaine’s not just talking about missing him emotionally. He hooks his thumb into the back of Blaine’s briefs, tugs at them a little. “Maybe we should -”

“Right here.”

Kurt’s legs go a little weak. “H-here?”

Blaine leans back, his hair messy and his eyes bright. “Here. Right now. Fuck me.”

Kurt kisses him, puts Blaine down, and with great enthusiasm does as he’s been asked.

(The stir-fry burns, but neither of them care.)


	16. part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> werewolf!blaine verse

[find it here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8928154)


	17. quirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt has a very specific smile (warning, not rachel berry friendly tbh)

“I’m just saying, I think it’s ridiculous that she treats you like a commodity designed to always agree with her instead of a real person,” Blaine slides down in the bed, “You know I’ve never gotten on that well with her. Elliott can’t  _ stand _ her. After this, I just think -”

Kurt has this specific expression that Blaine calls his  _ you-are-being-ridiculous  _ face.

It starts a squint and his brows drawn together. Then come the wide eyes and the head tilt. Then Kurt’s mouth quirks up at the corner, and he presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. Finally, comes the nodding, over exaggerated, and it’s usually at this point that Blaine stops saying whatever he’s saying and asks Kurt what’s so funny.

Which is what he’s doing now, propped up on his elbow and leaning over his husband. “What?” Blaine pokes Kurt lightly in the ribs, “What’s funny about this?”

“It’s not funny, it’s just,” Kurt shakes his head, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Blaine lays himself atop of Kurt, “I just want you to be happy. She doesn’t make you happy, Kurt.”

“I am happy,” Kurt’s arms wrap around his waist, “And you’re right, I just… feel bad. We’ve known each other for so long.”

“And if she were getting any less selfish, I’d feel bad too, but I don’t,” Blaine shivers as Kurt’s hands slide down the back of his pajama pants, “You’re handsy.”

“You’re sexy when you’re protective of me,” Kurt grins up at him, “Reminds me of our vows.”

“Rachel being a bitch reminds you of our vows?”

“ _ You don’t ask me to step out of the shadows, you help me rip away anything that’s blocking the sun _ ,” Kurt quotes, “You do, Blaine.”

Blaine kisses him, and Kurt rolls them so Blaine’s on his back. “Is it bad that thinking about our wedding makes me horny?”

“If it didn’t I’d be kind of worried,” Blaine tilts his head back to give Kurt access to his throat, “ _ Oh _ , can we just - can we put a pin in this until both of us have had an orgasm, because I can’t - focus on discussing how to hold an intervention for Rachel when your hands are in my pants.”

“I can do that,” Kurt murmurs, and then ducks under the covers. Blaine loses all coherency very swiftly after that.


	18. rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> burt and carole find out. (in the werewolf!blaine verse).

[find it here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8957053)


	19. sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt and blaine get sappy.

Blaine is a tactile person. Kurt’s known that since they first met, when Blaine took his hand and ran with him down a corridor like they lived in a romance movie. Their relationship has been built on hugs and hand-holding and simple, easy exchanges of affection. But as they got closer and closer, Kurt’s noticed several things about Blaine.

First of all, Kurt’s not quite as tactile as Blaine is, and Blaine knows that. When Kurt’s angry or frustrated or having a bad day, contact feels like it itches, sometimes. Like his entire body overreacts to the touch, and he hates it. Blaine leaves him alone with he’s like that, knows him well enough to see when he can and can’t deal with a hug or a kiss. When Kurt’s like that, his husband expresses his love through little notes left on the counter, a cup of coffee left waiting for him or a slice of cheesecake in the fridge with his name on it.

But when Blaine has a bad day, he craves contact. Whatever Kurt’s doing, Blaine will find a way to be touching him. If he’s sat on the couch, Blaine will sit on his lap. If he’s lying in bed, Blaine sprawls on top of him. And honestly? Kurt absolutely loves it.

Being able to hold Blaine, put his arms around him, murmur comforting words to him - it’s everything to Kurt. And after they get married, Kurt notices that Blaine starts to climb on him regularly.

One day, he voices it.

“You lie on me a lot,” he says one evening while they’re watching netflix, “You know that?”

Blaine, currently seated on his lap and eating popcorn, tilts his head back. “Huh?”

“Not that I mind,” he wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist and pulls him in close, “But you lie on me a lot.”

“You’re comfy,” Blaine gives him a flirty smile, “Do I need a reason?”

“No, I just,” Kurt rests his chin on Blaine’s shoulder, “It makes me really happy. Being able to hold you so often. That you come to me for that.”

“Where am I going to go, my other three husbands?”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Kurt says wounded, “I’m trying to bare my soul, here.”

“I know, I know,” Blaine puts the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and shifts so he’s straddling Kurt’s lap, “I just love being held by you. You make me feel safe.”

Kurt looks up at him, worried. “I just worry that it’s a sign you’re unhappy. You’re not stressed or anything? You’d tell me if you were? If there was something upsetting you?”

“There’s nothing upsetting me,” Blaine smiles, takes Kurt’s face in his hands, “I just love you and I love being close to you.”

“Mm,” Kurt smiles, “I love being close to you, too. Maybe we could get a little closer?”

Blaine rests their foreheads together. “Goodness me, Mr. Hummel. What might you be implying?”

“Well, I don’t know,  _ Mr. Hummel _ ,” Kurt slides his hands around and unbuckles Blaine’s belt, “Something like this?”

Blaine grins. “Hmm. And what if I want to continue watching the incredible piece of cinema that is  _ London Has Fallen? _ ”

“Well then,” Kurt’s eyes flicker closed as Blaine’s lips brush his, “I suppose I’ll just have to wait.”

Blaine laughs, leans back and shuts the laptop. “What if I say  _ absolutely, yes, take me now? _ ”

Kurt gets one leg underneath him, spills Blaine backwards onto the couch and kisses him. Blaine giggles, legs hugging Kurt’s hips, and murmurs “Are we really going to have clothed sex on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers?”

“You make me feel like a horny teenager,” Kurt breathes, “And don’t pretend that you’re not into it.”

“Would you say that -” Blaine gasps as Kurt’s teeth nip at his throat, “ - that I make you feel like you’re, uh, you’re - living a t-teenage dream?”

Kurt pushes himself up onto his elbows. Blaine’s trembling with barely contained laughter.

“You didn’t.”

Blaine pulls Kurt down on top of him. “I did.”

“You are such a goof.”

“You love it,” Blaine kisses him, “C’mon. Make good on your promise.”

Kurt grins. “You got it, Mr. Hummel.”


	20. tacky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a different sort of meeting for kurt and blaine. warning for implied self harm and reference to blaine's canonical gay bashing.

Kurt is doing the books at the front of the tire store, freezing in his seasonally appropriate but not weather appropriate outfit. He would much rather be in the office, but his dad is having a meeting with some guy and he’s been exiled to the front desk while he balances the accounts. The good thing is that he has the shop’s music system under his control, so he’s been blasting Lady Gaga for an hour and a half. 

He’s mouthing along to  _ Poker Face _ when someone clears their throat in front of him. Startled, he drops the pen and nearly knocks half of the books to the floor before managing to compose himself.

“Hi there,” he says, having to look up at the man standing in front of the desk, “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to inquire about how much it’d cost to have a headlight fixed and some scratches painted over,” the man has a sour expression on his face, “As soon as possible, preferably.”

Kurt glances over at the list of jobs. “Uh, we should be able to fit you in today. Do you have the car with you right now?”

The man gestures behind him. “It’s outside.”

“If you bring it in I can have someone take a look,” Kurt says politely, reaching across discretely to turn down the music. The man nods briskly, turns and walks out of the door.

And Kurt realises there’s someone standing behind him.

The boy looks about his age, but he’s clearly been through hell. His face is bruised, and one arm is in a cast. He stands awkwardly a few feet from the front desk, looking everywhere but Kurt.

Kurt glances at the main doors. The man - most likely this boy’s father - hasn’t pulled the car in yet.

“Hey,” he says, nervously.

The boy turns to look at him. Kurt tries to give a reassuring smile. “We have chairs just back here, if you want to sit down.”

The boy nods and walks slowly towards the chairs with a limp. Kurt watches him go, feeling like there’s something he wants to say, but he doesn’t know what.

Before he can try and figure it out, a car with smashed front headlights drives into the garage. Kurt gets up to grab the attention of someone, and then comes to an abrupt halt when he sees what’s been scratched into the side of the car.

It makes him feel sick. Every time it’s been shouted at him echoes in his ears, and he reads the six-letter word over and over while the pit in his stomach gets colder and colder.

“Everything okay, Kurt?”

The voice of Joe, his dad’s second in command, jerks Kurt out of his reverie. Before he can say anything, the boy’s father steps forward and offers out his hand. Kurt notices he’s wearing expensive leather driving gloves. They don’t really go with the beat-up 1990 Ford that he’d driven in.

Joe gives the car a once-over, says something to the man and then turns to Kurt. “Would you mind takin’ Mr. Anderson’s details, Kurt? Lemme get this into the back, sir.”

Kurt nods, but the man holds up a hand. “I have to take this call, actually - Blaine, give him our details, will you?”

The boy -  _ Blaine _ \- looks up and nods. “Sure, Dad.”

He starts to get up but Kurt stops him. “It’s okay, I can bring it to you.”

Blaine gives him a look that’s simultaneously grateful and embarrassed. Kurt grabs a clipboard and the form they give to new customers, takes a moment to compose himself, and returns.

He barely knows this boy, but he wants to help him. 

“Hey,” he sits down a seat away, “I’m Kurt. You mind if I sit here?”

The boy gives him a small smile. “Go ahead. I’m Blaine.”

“Great,” Kurt crosses one leg over the other and balances the clipboard on top, “Can I get your name and address, please?”

Blaine answers in short sentences, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his pants. Kurt fills out the form on autopilot because his brain is just saying over and over again  _ you have to say something, you have to say something, you have to say something  _ -

And then the form is done, and his chance finished with it. He sighs. “Okay, thanks -”

“Is that scarf McQueen?”

Kurt startles and looks up at Blaine. “I - yes. Yes, it is.”

“Where did you find it, it’s incredible?” Blaine asks, eyes wide and another smile pulling at his lips. Kurt doesn’t know what to say, puts his hand to his chest nervously.

“Sorry, was that weird,” Blaine’s smile fades, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Kurt decides to take a leap, “It’s always nice to meet another fashion forward teen in this ass-backwards state.”

Blaine’s smile comes back full force and Kurt feels his stomach flip. “You’re, uh, you’re wearing Brooks Brothers, right? That sweater?”

Blaine plucks at the fabric and shrugs bashfully. “I’m kind of a fan of their style.”

“They make really nice bowties,” Kurt says, and Blaine’s eyes widen. “You like bowties?”

“They’re very classic,” Kurt says, “Not everyone can pull them off.”

“True,” Blaine’s body language is relaxed, and he turns in the chair to face Kurt, reaching out with the arm that’s not in a cast. “It’s nice to meet someone who appreciates them.”

Kurt reaches out to take his hand and then as Blaine’s sleeve edges up, sees a thick white bandage around his wrist.

Blaine notices him noticing it and yanks his hand back, pulling his sleeve down hastily. The comfortable air between them vanishes, and Kurt scrambles fill the silence.

“Is it your car?”

Blaine refuses to look at him, but nods. “Yeah.”

“And the, uh… the scratch.”

Blaine looks up, but this time the expression on his face is one of determination. “Yeah. I’m gay. Is that a problem? Because if so -”

“No! No, I - so am I, I was just, um -” Kurt trips over his words, trying to fix what he’s started, “I just - was trying, uh -”

Blaine’s eyes are welling up with tears, and Kurt feels his do the same. Impulsively, he reaches out and takes Blaine’s hand.

“I know it’s overused,” he whispers, “But it does get better.”

Blaine wipes his eyes with his spare hand. “I’ve heard that one before,” he says, jaw clenched. Kurt tries a smile. “I know. It’s kinda tacky, right?”

Blaine laughs. “Yeah, to say the least.”

“But it’s true.”

“Kind of hard to believe.”

Kurt tears a corner of the form off, scribbles his number on it and hands it to Blaine. “Here.”

Blaine stares at him. “What -”

“If you ever want to talk,” Kurt says, “I’ve heard I make a pretty good listener.”

Blaine’s father calls his name, and he glances over his shoulder, then takes the slip of paper. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Kurt says. Blaine gives him another smile, tucks the paper into his pocket and crosses the garage to follow his father.

Kurt looks after him, feeling like he’s entered some sort of surreal universe. Since when do gay boys just walk into his dad’s tire shop and let him give them his number?

Before he can second guess himself too much, his phone goes off in his pocket. Tucking the clipboard under his arm, he walks back to the front desk to file it while opening the text.

_ From: Unknown Number _ _   
_ _ Hi Kurt, this is Blaine (just brought my car into your shop) _

_ From: Unknown Number _ _   
_ _ I cant really drive at the moment (obviously) but it’d be cool if you wanted to meet for coffee or something some time? _

Kurt grins, drops the clipboard on the desk and stops to answer the text. Filing can wait. He just made his first ever gay friend.

_To: Blaine_ _   
_ _ Hey!! I would love to do that. Let me know when you’re free :) _


	21. universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine gets sick. warning for some medical ickyness.

Blaine sneezes so loud it echoes around the entire apartment.

Kurt nearly drops the mug of tea he’s holding, turning to look at the lump of blankets that contains his husband. “You okay, honey?”

Blankets part, and Blaine’s face peers out. “ _ Mmmn _ .”

“You want some more chicken noodle soup?”

“ _ Nn-nn. _ ”

“Decongestant?”

“ _ Mm-hm _ .”

“Got it.”

There’s a small collection of flu meds in the bathroom cupboard where they’ve been piling up since Kurt was sick two weeks earlier. He had a much milder version of the flu than Blaine, only spending one day in bed and surviving on extra-strength Tylenol and Blaine’s miso soup. But Blaine was hit hard by it less than a week later. Like, feverish delusions and coughing fits that last minutes hard. Kurt’s supposed to be schmoozing with the higher-ups at Vogue this evening, but the idea of leaving his husband to fend for himself when he’s in this state feels  _ wrong _ .

Kurt collects the decongestant from the cupboard, checks his watch. Blaine’s due his next dose of Tylenol, too.

“Okay, honey,” he calls, “You want ginger ale or Gatorade with your Tylenol?”

There’s no reply. Kurt rolls his eyes. Blaine’s been slipping in and out of sleep a lot lately, and with all the comforters and blankets around him he’s probably dead to the world.

He grabs ginger ale from the fridge, finds a corner of the couch that isn’t taken up by his husband’s cocoon of fabric. “Sweetie? Decongestant and painkillers are here.”

When he can see of Blaine’s face shows he’s asleep. Kurt peels back a few layers of covers, shakes his shoulder gently. “Blaine, baby. Wake up.”

Blaine groans, cracks an eye open. “Huh?”

“Decongestant and painkillers,” Kurt repeats, “C’mon, sit up. Are you sure you don’t want soup?”

Blaine’s face is pale apart from two spots of colour high on his cheeks, his eyes half-closed. Kurt feels his forehead, feels worry settle deep in his stomach at how warm he is.

“Take this,” he presses the Tylenol into Blaine’s hand, curls his fingers closed around them, “I’m going to get the thermometer.”

Blaine throws the pills back dry, lies down without saying a word. Kurt bites his lip and jogs to the bathroom to get the thermometer.

Blaine’s asleep when he gets back, and Kurt doesn’t want to wake him but he’s not about to stick a foreign object in Blaine’s mouth without warning him. When he finally rouses Blaine, his husband lays glassy-eyed and unmoving.

The thermometer beeps, and Kurt peers at the display. _104.5_ _degrees._

“Oh, sweetie,” he pushes Blaine’s damp curls off his forehead, “Can you talk to me? Tell me how you’re feeling?”

Blaine blinks, inhales, and explodes into a coughing fit so violent each breath sounds like he’s being raked over coals.

“Blaine, Blaine -” Kurt gets him upright, rubs his back, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Blaine wheezes, murmurs, “Don’t feel good.”

“I know, baby,” Kurt plucks the tissue that Blaine was coughing into from his hand, “I - oh.”

The tissue is red. It’s red, and it looks like blood, and Kurt immediately crumples it up and tosses it in the trash before his husband can see it. “Honey, drink some water, I’m just going to call someone, okay?”

He steps out of the room, grabs his phone from where it’s been charging in their bedroom. There are several texts waiting, one from Mercedes and three from Isabelle.

_ From: Isabelle (The Boss) _ _   
_ _ You and Blaine still coming to the winter ball tonight? _

_ From: Isabelle (The Boss) _ _   
_ _ Need a reply soon!! _

_ From: Isabelle (The Boss) _ _   
_ _ Kurt!!!!!! _

Kurt curses, types out a quick reply.

_ To: Isabelle (The Boss) _ _   
_ _ Blaine’s getting sicker and sicker, probably staying home to take care of him. _

He doesn’t wait for her to text back, just opens his contacts app and calls Carole.

It takes her a few rings to pick up, and when she does she sounds distracted. “ _ Hey sweetie, how are you doing? _ ”

“Carole, I need advice,” he speaks so fast his words trip over themselves, “Blaine’s sick and he - blood, I think he coughed up blood, and his fever is a hundred and four and I am so scared, Carole, he’s been sick for over a week and I don’t know what to do -”

“ _ Kurt, Kurt, slow down. Slow down. Blaine’s coughing up blood? _ ”

“I don’t know, it looked bloody?” Kurt bites at the skin around his thumb, “And he’s been delirious, he’s not really talking any more and I’m  _ scared _ .”

“ _ Okay. What’s his temperature been at the last couple days? _ ”

“I haven’t taken it often, I,” Kurt feels tears well up in his eyes, “He’s been sleeping, I didn’t want to wake him.”

“ _ When did you take it last? _ ”

“Uh, yesterday, it was one-oh-three point nine,” Kurt wipes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, “And before that it was a hundred and two.”

“ _ Okay. He’s been coughing? _ ”

“For about five days, yeah,” Kurt slides down the wall to sit, “It’s gotten worse the past three days, he’s been wheezing and just now - I don’t know, I threw it in the trash and called you.”

“ _ Is he awake? Can you ask him something for me? Ask him if he feels cold. _ ”

“Yeah, give me a second,” Kurt gets back to his feet, stumbles back into the living room and leans over his husband. “Blaine, are you awake?”

Blaine nods, but keeps his eyes closed. Kurt sighs in relief. “Are you cold, sweetie?”

Blaine nods again. Kurt touches his shoulder, feels him shaking.  _ No. Not shaking. Shivering. _

“He says yes, Carole,” Kurt steps back, lowers his voice, “What do I do? Should I take him to the doctor? Should I call an ambulance? I’m going to call -”

_ “Kurt, you need to take a deep breath, I can hear you panicking _ .”

“He’s  _ sick _ , I don’t know what you want me to do -”

“ _ I want you to listen to me. Blaine’s going to be fine, okay? He’s going to be fine. If you’re really worried, you can take him to a walk in clinic. He’s young and healthy, it’s probably nothing serious.” _

“Okay,” Kurt’s made his decision, “Okay. Thanks, Carole. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up, shoves his phone in his back pocket, and moves back to his husband’s side. “Blaine, wake up for me, okay? We’re going to the hospital, sweetie, I’m worried about you.”

Blaine opens his eyes. “Hospital? Nnnooo, Kurt, don’ need hospital -”

“Yes you do, baby, you do,” Kurt wants to cry, “Your fever is too high.”

“‘S fine,” Blaine shakes his head, “Don’ need hospital.”

“Too bad,” Kurt helps him sit up, “We’re going. No arguments.”

He gets Blaine into a coat, ties his shoes for him and calls a cab. Darkness has fallen by the time they get out of the apartment, and Blaine is exhausted by the short walk down to the street. Kurt gives the address of the closest hospital, gets his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and holds him tight as the driver weaves through the New York traffic.

It takes three hours before they’re seen by a doctor. Blaine lays curled up on the chair, alternating between sleeping and coughing with his head on Kurt’s lap. Kurt drapes his coat over him, but Blaine still shivers almost nonstop, one hand holding Kurt’s coat up to his chin and the other clutching Kurt’s hand tight.

When someone finally calls Blaine’s name, it takes a minute for Kurt to get them upright and get the nurse’s attention. From getting a bed, it takes another two hours for Blaine to be x-rayed, and it’s nearing midnight before a doctor comes to them with any answers.

Blaine is fast asleep in the bed, Kurt’s coat still thrown over him because he’s still shivering. His left arm has an IV in it, they’re pumping him full of fluids and antibiotics, and Kurt hates the sight of it. He has a white knuckle grip on Blaine’s hand, drifting between sleep and awareness with his head tipped back against the uncomfortable hospital chair so he doesn’t have to see any of the machinery surrounding his husband, but as soon as someone draws the privacy curtains back he’s sitting up, tightening his grip on Blaine’s hand.

“Mr. Hummel,” the doctor says, “I have results.”

Kurt draws the chair closer to Blaine’s bed, nods. He can’t find any words.

Blaine has pneumonia, probably secondary to his flu. It’s not serious, it’s treatable, and he’ll be fine. The doctor reassures Kurt, gets him a cup of tea and a box of tissues. She’s kind and helpful, answering all the questions Kurt has and repeating over and over that Blaine will be fine, that he’ll survive.

“His symptoms seem severe but they’re not,” she tells him, one hand on his shoulder, “A good course of antibiotics will have him back on his feet likely within two weeks, and he likely won’t need to be in the hospital for any longer than one night.”

“Thank you,” Kurt dabs at his eyes, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she smiles at him, “Someone will be along to transfer him up to another ward soon.”

Kurt can’t get back to sleep once she’s gone, so he just sits watching Blaine sleep. He’s still wheezing but the cough has lessened, and he looks properly peaceful.

Kurt leans up, brushes Blaine’s curls off his forehead. His husband wrinkles his nose, blinks one eye open and gives Kurt a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kurt pulls his chair closer, “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Blaine rasps, “What happened?”

“Your flu turned into pneumonia,” he cups Blaine’s face, “But you’re gonna be fine. They have you on antibiotics.”

Blaine groans, lifts his head. “What’s the time?”

Kurt checks his watch. “Oof. It’s nearly one in the morning.”

Blaine frowns. “Kurt, you gotta go home. You have the winter ball tomorrow, don’t you?”

“You lost a day, sweetie,” Kurt smiles, “It was tonight.”

“ _ Kurt _ ,” Blaine grabs his hand, “You can’t miss your first winter ball as an employee of Vogue.”

“Who cares about Vogue?” Kurt kisses Blaine’s hand, “I’m not going to leave you alone with a fever of a hundred and four.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose again. “Go home, Kurt. Get some sleep.”

“Shh,” Kurt taps his nose, “There is nowhere in the world I’d rather be right now than here.”

Blaine’s eyes shine with tears. “Even when I’m gross and mucus-y and feverish?”

“Even then,” Kurt glances over his shoulder to check the privacy curtain is still closed, “You mind if I get up on here with you?”

Blaine muffles a cough into his hand. “I’m contagious, you probably shouldn’t.”

“I’ve been taking my vitamin tablets,” Kurt says, a little desperately, “I’ll be fine.”

Blaine must register the edge in his voice, because he pats the bed. “C’mon then. Get up here.”

Relieved, Kurt climbs onto the bed and lays down next to his husband, throwing an arm over his chest. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Blaine hums. “I do. And I love you.”

Kurt holds him tight. There really is nowhere else in the world - hell, nowhere else in the  _ universe _ \- he’d rather be right now than right here, with Blaine safe in his arms, knowing that everything is going to be okay.


	22. video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blaine has a proposition

“We should make a sex tape,” Blaine muses out loud.

Kurt, sitting at his dresser, laughs. “Good joke, honey.”

“I’m serious,” Blaine says, “We should. It’d be really hot.”

His husband swivels on his seat, face covered in his new avocado-honey mask and his bangs held off his forehead with a white band. “I look like an alien and you’re propositioning me for sex right now?”

“Not right now,” Blaine says, even though he’d absolutely have sex with Kurt right this moment if it wouldn’t ruin their new sheets, “Just saying. I think we should.”

Kurt wipes his hand on the towel he has ready and crosses the room, holding his robe closed. “The only way we make a sex tape is if it’s on old-timey videotape and we encase it in concrete and put it in a time capsule.”

Blaine rolls onto his back, admiring the view of his husband’s legs. “What’s wrong with my hard drive?”

“I’m not about to become the next Kim Kardashian, honey,” Kurt drops his robe and Blaine whines. “Why not?”

“I admire her empire, but the one with the ass in this relationship is you, not me.”

“I like your ass,” Blaine pouts, “I like all of you.”

“And I like all of you,” Kurt pulls on a pair of underwear and then groans. “Are these yours?”

Blaine narrows his eyes. “I think so?”

“See?” Kurt points at his butt, “You’re the one with all the junk in the trunk. I can’t even wear your underwear.”

Blaine bursts out laughing at the sight of his fiancé in ill-fitting red underwear and a green face mask. “You look an XXX-rated Grinch cosplayer.”

Kurt gasps. “You expect me to make a sex tape with you when you tell me I look like the Grinch?”

Blaine gives him an angelic smile, and his husband laughs. “Charmer. Let me take this off.”

Blaine watches him walk into the bathroom to rinse his mask off, listens to him humming as he moisturises. “Why exactly do you want to make a sex tape, Blaine?”

Blaine sits up, considering the question. “Well, I think it’d be hot. Something to look back on when we’re old and grey and not as flexible.”

Kurt hums. “I see your point.”

“Plus, I - oh.”

When Kurt walks back into the room, he’s completely naked.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered the sex tape thing?” Blaine asks, grinning cheekily once he stops staring. Kurt pushes him backward onto the bed, crawls over him and murmurs, “If you blow my mind this evening? We’ll see.”

“Yes,  _ sir _ .”


	23. winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt sprains his ankle.

When the door of the apartment opens with a resounding crash, Blaine nearly drops a glass. Mocha and Cocoa both race towards the noise, and he follows close behind, calling out, “Kurt? That you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just -” another crash as the front door shuts, and Kurt appears around the corner, leaning heavily on the wall, “I, uh, may have slipped on some black ice.”

Blaine rushes forward, puts an arm around Kurt’s waist and helps him limp through to a chair at the kitchen table. Kurt’s jeans are smeared with dirt and he’s favouring his left leg heavily, falling into the chair at Blaine’s tiny kitchen table with a relieved sigh.

“Here, put your leg up,” Blaine pulls one of the stools that he puts Mocha’s food on so Cocoa can’t eat it over, “Let me take a look.”

Kurt whimpers when Blaine lifts his foot onto his lap. “Ow,  _ ow _ , careful.”

“Sorry,” Blaine whispers, unlacing Kurt’s winter boot carefully. Kurt peels his gloves off and grumbles under his breath, “ _ Fucking hate this weather _ .”

Blaine shakes his head, easing the shoe off and placing it to the side. Kurt’s ankle is visibly swollen already, and he peels the sock off too and tosses it over his shoulder. “Looks like you sprained it, honey.”

“Oh, god,” Kurt groans, “I  _ hate _ winter and I  _ hate  _ slush and I  _ hate  _ New York’s irregular gritting schedule -  _ ow _ , ow, please don’t bend it that way -”

Blaine releases Kurt’s foot quickly, reaches up and squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Let me get my first aid kit and we’ll fix you up, okay?”

Kurt sniffles, looking miserable. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Blaine kisses his forehead.

Forty minutes later, Kurt’s horizontal on the couch in a pair of Blaine’s pajamas with his foot propped up on several pillows and Mocha, with an ace bandage wrapped around his ankle and an ice pack on either side. The pajama pants are a little too short and flap around Kurt’s shins when he moves, but he looks adorable.

“Thank you,” he says as Blaine hands him a cup of tea, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Mm, me neither,” Blaine helps Kurt sit up a little and sits down behind him, lets Kurt lean up against his chest. “Your ankle doing okay?”

“The Tylenol helps,” Kurt wiggles his toes, “And Mocha makes an excellent footrest.”

Blaine puts his cup of tea on the coffee table and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist. “I’m glad she’s good for something other than eating my leftovers and farting when I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sounds like you’re describing me,” Kurt gives him a smile, “I’m pretty sure that’s all I do, too.”

“Nope,” Blaine kisses his cheek, “You make my life worth living, is what you do.”

Kurt’s smile disappears and his eyes turn all misty. “Blaine…”

“I love you,” he squeezes Kurt tight, “Even when you eat my leftovers.”

“I love you too,” Kurt whispers, and twists to kiss him properly.


	24. young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a dance.

The presents are long gone and the turkey all eaten by the time Kurt and Blaine get a moment to themselves on Christmas Day.

Hepburn and Avery are both upstairs, playing with Avery’s new set of cars, and Bagel is somewhere searching for scraps. Kurt’s tidying, trying to get the living room back to a presentable state before their parents visit tomorrow, and every time he turns around there’s another shred of wrapping paper or a gift tag that he didn’t notice before.

“This is the last time I let the kids play before cleaning up,” he mutters to himself, stuffing the last handful of gift wrap into the bag of trash. He stands, puts a hand to the small of his back and groans. He’s getting  _ old _ .

Blaine’s record player starts playing a crackly old version of  _ Let It Snow _ and he pauses to listen, smiling. Remembering singing this song with Blaine when they were young and didn’t have two under-ten kids to take care of.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Kurt turns to see his husband standing in the doorway, holding Avery’s stuffed whale and smiling. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about how we had a whole dance routine to this song, do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” Blaine steps closer, “God knows if I’ll ever be able to dance like that again, though.”

“Mm,” Kurt smiles, “Come here. Dance with me.”

Blaine glances over his shoulder. “Avery will want her whale in a moment -”

“Then we’ll go and give it to her in a moment, but right now, come here,” Kurt reaches out, “Dance with me.”

Blaine places Avery’s whale on the coffee table and steps in close. Kurt slides one arm around his waist, takes his hand with the other, and smiles. “You make me feel like a young man, Blaine Hummel.”

Blaine tips his face up with a grin as they sway back and forth to the music. “You make me feel like a younger man, Kurt Hummel.”

“You ever gonna let that age gap go?”

“What, that I’m a whole three months younger than you?” Blaine laughs, “Never.”

“Good,” Kurt leans down to kiss him, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, feel free to dm me on twitter or tumblr (pumpkinkurt on both) if you find a mistake!


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